


After All by Candy Apple

by Candy_A



Series: These Two Hearts by Candy Apple [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non Consensual, Rape, S&M, Song Lyrics, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-05-13
Updated: 2000-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:26:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 51,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candy_A/pseuds/Candy_A





	After All by Candy Apple

After All by Candy Apple  


Author's disclaimer: All characters who have appeared in the UPN-TV series, "The Sentinel" are the properties of UPN and Pet Fly Productions. All original characters belong to the author. No infringement on the rights held by any to "The Sentinel" characters, name or stories is intended. No money is changing hands or profit being made on this story.

Author's notes: NC-17 for m/m sex, violence, language and references to rape, sexual abuse and S&M (none of which occurs between Jim& Blair!). H/C, romance and a little smarm included, too. :)Song lyrics are taken from the song "After All", performed by Cher and Peter Cetera. No copyright infringement is intended. It's not mine. Lyrics to the song "How Deep Is Your Love" belong to the Bee Gees, I think. It's not mine either.

After All - part one  
By Candy Apple

"After all the stops and starts  
We keep coming back to these two hearts,  
Two angels who've been rescued from the fall.  
After all that we've been through,  
It all comes down to me and you.  
I guess it's meant to be,  
Forever you and me,  
After all. . ."

Jim Ellison waited impatiently while the nurse completed the task of bandaging the flesh wound. The bullet had only grazed him, but it had caused enough bleeding and momentary disorientation to land him in the emergency room. Head wounds generally bleed profusely, and this one was no exception.

He realized he'd been distracted on the job, not quite his old self. The old Ellison hadn't really been in full swing since his falling out with Blair. And then, it couldn't actually be termed a "falling out". More like an amicable split over irreconcilable differences. //Too much like a damned divorce.// That Blair had those feelings for him had stunned him. Initially, it had sickened him. Even when the shock wore off, he just didn't have it in him to pursue a physical relationship with a man. Blair had insisted on moving out, telling Jim that living together in platonic friendship was just too painful a reminder of what might have been.

In the solitary time that had passed, Jim had done a lot of thinking about his absent friend. Blair's presence had lit up his previously drab life like a fireworks display. He was smart, witty, a good partner--and a first-rate friend. Jim had confided things to him he would have never told another soul. //Soul...that's what Blair was...a soul mate// Jim thought sadly. Would making love have really been such an ungodly stretch of their relationship when they loved each other in every other way already? It seemed like it at the time...

That was close to a year ago now. But what hurt more than the initial split was that Blair didn't want to keep in touch. He didn't call, and when Jim called his office and left messages, he didn't get a call back. He could have pinned the other man down, tracked him somewhere and talked again face to face...but why? Blair apparently wanted all or nothing,and since Jim couldn't give all, then they had to live with the alternative.

When he heard the frantic and all-too-familiar voice outside the treatment room, he was nothing short of shocked. A moment later, Blair burst through the door with a protesting nurse on his heels.

"Jim! I heard on the news--they said a cop got shot--in the head!" Blair rushed up to him, oblivious to the fact that the nurse who'd followed him was still expounding on why he shouldn't be in there.

"We're all finished, Gloria," Jim's nurse explained to her colleague. "He can have a visitor. The doctor just needs to sign his paperwork." The older woman smiled reassuringly at Blair, who looked like he was living through the worst scare of his life. The two women left the room, leaving Jim alone with his former partner for the first time in almost a year.

"Are you okay?" Blair asked anxiously.

"Just a flesh wound, Chief. Nothing serious." Jim evaluated Blair's appearance, tuning in to him as he always had. The heartbeat was rapid, the pulse racing. His mane of curls was pulled back severely, looking as if Blair had applied a good deal of styling gel to keep the front in place. He was considerably thinner and had a pallor about him that Jim didn't like one bit.

"I didn't mean to barge in that way. I'm sorry, man."

"Hey," Jim called after him as Blair started toward the door.

"Yeah?"

"What's the rush? You just got here."

"Look, it's kind of awkward, you know?" Blair chewed his lower lip and fidgeted with a leather bracelet he was wearing. "I'm sorry I didn't call you back...those times you left messages. But I...I still feel the same way I did a year ago, and I can't help it. And I know you don't want to hear from me under those circumstances."

"I kind of hoped we could be friends."

"I wish I could do that." Blair finally looked Jim in the eyes. There was a fatigue and sadness in those deep blue orbs Jim couldn't remember ever seeing before. "But I would've never left if I could've managed that."

"I understand," Jim responded. It was so good to see Blair again, and at the same time, it was unsettling. Blair didn't even look particularly healthy, let alone happy. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired. I have to go. I'll be late," Blair announced, checking his watch. Jim couldn't remember ever seeing him worriedly checking a watch before.

"This is the first time I've seen you watch the clock."

"Yeah, well, I guess I was late for something once too often." Blair reached for the door and then turned to look at Jim with that same sadness in his eyes that tore at the detective's heart. "I'm glad you're okay. Learn to duck, huh?" he said, forcing a little smile.

"Next time, I'll remember," Jim responded, trying to match the smile. "It really is good to see you again."

"Same here. Take care of yourself." And then he was gone, and the door whooshed shut behind him.

Jim was only off work the balance of the day of the shooting. Though he was plagued with a headache, he had a load of case files to plow through, and the jerk who shot him was waiting to be questioned. Jim planned on being the one to do it.

When the end of the day rolled around, Jim was grateful to have it behind him, turning off his computer and his desk lamp with a relieved sigh. The Major Crimes Division was dimly lit and marginally quiet, as it always was after 10:00 at night.

"Jim, I've got something here you should take a look at." Ryf approached him, his worried-looking partner, Brown, waiting in the doorway.

"What is it?" Jim opened the manilla folder.

"It's a record of domestic disturbance calls for a particular address. We got the call tonight. All of them have been called in by the neighbors, and the victim refuses to press charges every time."

"This isn't really my area, guys. You know that."

"This case is different. Check out the names on the paperwork," Brown spoke up from behind them.

"Oh, my God." Jim noticed the names Vince Watson--and Blair Sandburg--in the reports. "Who's the victim?" Jim already knew, but the written words were running together now, and he needed time to regroup to think clearly.

"Who do you think? This Watson guy could be your twin brother, Jim. Only he's bigger. It always starts the same way. The neighbors hear a loud argument, then sounds of a struggle, sometimes a scream, or if the windows are open like they have been the last few nights, they've reported hearing Sandburg pleading with Watson to stop whatever it ishe'sdoing. The cops show up, there isn't a visible mark on Sandburg, but he's moving like he expects to split in half, and Watson looks winded, like he's just been working out."

"And Sandburg won't file charges?" Jim clarified.

"Nope. Not once. He always says something like, 'Hey, don't I look all right?' Then he says they were just arguing and it got out of hand."

"How long has this been going on?" Jim slapped the file shut and pinned Ryf with an angry glare, as if he'd been concealing the information.

"This is the first time we took the call. Usually one of the black and whites gets it. But we were in the area, so we responded. According to the paperwork, it's been going on about six months now. The first report was dated in January."

"Shit." Jim ran a hand back over his hair. "I'm going over there."

"Jim, if this guy's beating him, he could get it worse or more of it if you show up there now," Brown responded.

"Not if I go over there and break both Watson's arms." Jim snatched his jacket off his chair, but Ryf caught his arm.

"If you really want to help Blair, talk to him when Watson isn't there. Maybe at the university. But I think you better do it soon. He didn't look so great."

"I can't just leave him there tonight."

"I don't see as you have a hell of a lot of choice." Ryf sighed as if in frustration, then continued. "He isn't filing charges, and you getting thrown in jail for going to someone's house and beating the shit out of them isn't going to do much for him."

"Maybe not but I'd feel a hell of a lot better." Jim shrugged into his jacket, then nodded at Ryf, raising a hand to forestall any further discussion. "You're right. I won't go there tonight. But I am going over there to watch the house. Is it a house?"

"It's a one-floor four-unit. Over on Vine Court."

"Thanks for telling me about this, guys." Jim tapped Brown on the shoulder with the file folder as he headed for the elevator.

Jim stirred and opened his eyes. Sometime during the night of staring at the one-floor brick building with its white-trimmed windows, he'd dozed off to sleep. Dawn was on the horizon now, and a few residents of the quiet city neighborhood were getting ready for work. Children were out of school now, so Jim imagined some windows were remaining dark that would usually have been illuminated.

A light went on in 2314C Vine Court, the unit where Blair was living with the man who was abusing him. That whole concept made Jim's stomach turn inside out. Why would someone as bright and intelligent as Blair let himself be treated that way? Furthermore, why would anyone want to treat Blair that way? He was the kindest, gentlest person Jim had ever known.

Jim honed his focus on the house until he realized that the window that lit up was the kitchen. He saw Blair at what he presumed as the sink, his shoulders moving as if he were filling a container with water. What caught Jim's attention most of all was Blair's hair. It wasn't smoothed back, and one side of the front hung about a third shorter than the other, which seemed abnormally long.

Blair moved cautiously around the kitchen, as if he were either trying to be quiet or in a great deal of pain. Or both.

Another figure moved into view of the window, and this one nearly filled it. Tall, broad and sporting a brush cut like the one Jim had eschewed in favor of his current short-but-visible hairstyle, Vince Watson paused at the sink a moment, and then turned toward Blair. Jim turned up his hearing.

"I don't have to be in to work until three. What the hell's the matter with you?" He shoved roughly past Blair on his way to the refrigerator, which Jim heard open. Bottles were rattled, packages moved, and finally, something was unwrapped as the door was kicked shut again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd wake you. It...I was getting stiff in bed so I--"

"Getting a stiff, eh?" Watson swatted Blair's rear end hard enough to throw him slightly off balance as he moved back past him to stand by the window looking out. "I can take care of that." Jim hoped he was parked far enough away. His sense of sight on full alert, he was on the next block, looking between the houses.

"You want some eggs?" Jim could hear Blair cracking them on the edge of a bowl. //How many dozen times did Blair do that very thing for me before work?// Jim pondered.

"I got a better idea." He turned away from the window and grabbed Blair roughly around the middle. Blair's whimper of pain came through to Jim loud and clear.

"Take your hands off him, you asshole," Jim growled under his breath.

"Please, Vince, not now. I...I can't yet."

"The hell you can't. You can put out for Ellison but not for me, huh?"

"I already told you I didn't put out for him! I went to the hospital because I thought he'd been shot--maybe killed. We were...we were friends once."

"Lying little whore!" Watson released him with a shove that sent him smacking into the refrigerator. "You told me you were hot for him! Or don't you remember that?" he bellowed at Blair.

"I said that I had feelings for him and that it didn't work out. And I haven't seen him for almost a year. I wasn't doing anything wr--"

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up! Get in the other room!"

"Vin, please, I'm...I'm bleeding this morning..."

"It's not my fault you're a tight-assed little bitch! Now get in there!"

Jim revved up the siren and gunned the engine, tearing down the street with the flashers cutting through the early morning mist. He came to a screeching halt outside of Blair's address, and saw Watson looking questioningly out the same kitchen window to see what was going on.

"Open up! Cascade Police!" he yelled as he pounded on the door.

"Goddamn cops. Why don't they mind their own fucking business?!" he yelled at Blair as he shoved past him and swung open the door.

"Are you Blair Sandburg?" Jim asked, keeping his face impassive.

"Do I fucking look like Blair Sandburg?" he asked sarcastically. Banking on Watson not knowing who he was, Jim continued his charade.

"I'd say you've got a fucking attitude problem, pal. Now unless you want me to haul your ass in along with your playmate, you better step aside."

"What's this about?" Watson was apparently taking the bait.

"We found drugs in Sandburg's office. I have to take him in for questioning."

"It's okay, Vince. I'm Blair Sandburg, officer," Blair replied, playing along. He had pulled on a suit of sweats and an old pair of sneakers while Jim had argued withWatson. In response to Watson's shocked expression, Blair added, "I think I know what this is all about, and I can explain everything, but I'll probably have to go to the station todo it, right?" heconcluded, looking at Jim.

"That's right, Sandburg. You better come with me." As Vince started to grab for a jacket near the door, Jim held up an admonishing finger. "Not you, Tarzan."

"He's got the right to lawyer!"

"Are you a lawyer?" Jim shot back at him, all the while moving Blair as briskly as possible toward the truck.

"No, but--"

"So call him one." Jim retorted abruptly over his shoulder.

"I didn't see any ID," he challenged, as Jim opened the passenger door for Blair. Jim noticed the younger man couldn't seem to pull himself up into the high vehicle.

"It's okay, Chief. I've got you now." Jim slid one arm around Blair's back and the other under his knees and lifted him up into the seat, settling him down as gently as possible. He had a pretty good notion why Blair was bleeding, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt him further.

"What the hell's going on here?" Watson was almost to the truck. Jim pulled out his automatic and pointed it at him.

"Hold it right there! You want ID, you son of a bitch? Jim Ellison! Sound familiar? You come one inch closer and give me an excuse to blow your fucking head off!!"

"Blair! Get out of that truck! Now!" Watson bellowed. Blair only jerked at the loud command, covered his face with one hand and turned away.

"If you so much as call him on the telephone, I'll kill you. Got that?" Jim slammed the passenger door and moved around to the driver's side, keeping his gun on Watson until the last possible minute. Neighbors had gathered on their porches to watch the spectacle, drawn out by the sirens and shouting. Watson had no recourse but to go back inside his house and let Jim drive away with Blair.

"You shouldn't have done that, Jim. He'll kill us both." Blair still hadn't removed the hand that covered his face.

"What was I supposed to do? Wait for him to rape you again?"

"How do you...?" Blair's head snapped up in surprise.

"I heard you tell him you were bleeding."

"Oh, shit." Blair slumped back in the seat.

"I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No."

"Don't argue with me, Sandburg. This isn't open for negotiations."

"I...I'm not arguing anymore...Jim, there's a pain...in my side. I...oh, God, it's getting worse!" Blair held onto his left side, making little noises of pain.

"Hang on, buddy." Jim started up the siren again and floored it all the way to Cascade General. Blair was still clutching his side and moaning as Jim brought the truck to a screeching halt at the emergency entrance. He rushed around the side of the vehicle and swung open the door, gathering the curled form into his arms and racing into the hospital.

"Get a doctor! Now!" Jim yelled at the nurse at the desk. "He's got a possible ruptured spleen and he's bleeding internally!"

"Right this way," she left her post and led him down the hall past the waiting room to an empty gurney, where he relinquished his armload.

"Jim...please don't leave me." Blair looked up through teary eyes, and clutched at Jim's hand.

"You need a doctor, Chief." Jim noticed a man in green scrubs rushing down the hall in response to a stat call the nurse had issued over the PA. "I'll be right here. You're safe. Don't worry about anything, okay?"

"He'll come back," Blair moaned, still writhing in pain but refusing to let go of Jim's hand.

"He won't get past me. Got it?" Jim took hold of both of Blair's hands. "I know it hurts, but this guy's going to help you out. Just try to relax. I'll be right outside, guarding the door. You'll be safe from now on. I promise."

"Okay. I-I'm sorry."

"No apologies, pal." Jim reached up and smoothed the uneven hair back from Blair's face.

"I need to get him into x-ray, sir," the doctor spoke up, jarring Jim out of his momentary concentration on his prodigal guide.

"Hang in there, Chief. You'll be fine, I promise." Jim reluctantly pulled free of the clutching hands and watched helplessly as Blair was wheeled down the hall and out of sight. Remembering his pledge to guard his friend, he followed the gurney as far as he was permitted, and then made a thorough check of any points of access to the area.

Vince Watson was arrested on charges of aggravated assault and aggravated sexual assault at Jim's direction. He assured Simon that Blair would press charges this time. Waiting while emergency surgery was performed on the too-thin body of his best friend to stop the hemorrhaging from his spleen, and stitches were determined necessary to repair the tearing caused by the rape he'd suffered the night before, Jim practiced every relaxation technique Blair had ever taught him. The man who did this to his Blair was going to pay, and pay dearly. Jim only hoped he could find some way to contain his rage so he didn't murder the bastard with his bare hands.

"Detective Ellison?" The doctor who had rushed to Blair's assistance approached the spot where Jim paced, not unlike a large panther, guarding the access to the operating suite.

"How is he?" Jim blurted.

"He's stable. We removed the spleen and we managed to stop the internal bleeding. Most of his major organs were bruised, but fortunately, we got the bleeding under control. Whoever did this to him...this isn't the first time he's taken a severe beating. His torso is covered with old bruises, with a layer of new ones on the top."

"Doctor, the injuries from the sexual assault--how serious are they?"

"We repaired the tearing, but again, this isn't the first time he's suffered a similar injury. Scar tissue in that area indicates a number of prior tears, though most not as severe as these. A few of them should have had stitches. There was a great deal of internal bruising which is going to cause him considerable discomfort for a while, but fortunately, no serious damage to those organs. His injuries are consistent with a pattern of severe physical and sexual abuse. I'm amazed it took him this long to end up in surgery." The doctor removed his glasses and hung them in the pocket of his scrub shirt. "I'm not going to lie to you. He's in bad shape. He's significantly underweight, somewhat dehydrated, he's lost a good deal of blood and he's in considerable pain."

"Is he going to be all right?"

"In time, I expect him to make a full recovery. Of course, I can only speak for the physical aspect of things."

"I hope you'll be willing to testify to all this in court."

"With great pleasure. Whoever has been abusing him belongs behind bars."

"When can I see him?"

"He's in recovery. He'll be asleep from the anesthetic for a couple of hours yet, and then he'll be heavily sedated. He's going to be in a quite a bit of pain, and I want him to get some undisturbed sleep. You could go home and--"

"I'll be guarding him personally, doctor. I really do need access to where he's staying."

"You can wait outside the recovery ward, and when he's moved down to his room, you're welcome to guard him from inside the room or outside."

"I want him in a private room--security reasons."

"Fine. I'll arrange for that."

Jim's eyes flew open at the first whimper from the hospital bed a few feet away. He'd spent the balance of the day and into the night slumped in that chair, watching the still form in the bed. Simon had come to the hospital and conferred with him about the case, taking over the work to nail Watson personally.

The hulking man who had been arrested for putting Blair in the hospital was cooling his heels in a cell, awaiting arraignment the following morning. Vincent Watson, who bore astartling resemblance to Jim, was a wrestling coach at Rainier, a thirty-six-year-old man well-respected by his colleagues. He had a degree in Physical Education, and a clean record. Some diligent digging by Taggert uncovered a history of violent incidents during Watson's school days, culminating in the rape and beating of his 16-year-old girlfriend during his senior year. The girl had declined to press charges.

"Hey there, Chief," Jim said softly, pulling his chair up close to the bed as he noticed two pain-filled eyes riveted on him.

"Jim?"

"That's me, buddy."

"Hurts," he murmured, reaching up weakly to touch his side, but giving up and letting his arm drop again.

"I know. You had a ruptured spleen. But you're going to be just fine now." Jim took one pale hand in his. "Watson's in jail, Blair. You don't have to be afraid of him anymore. It's over."

"I let him do this to me," Blair whispered, a tear sliding out from the corner of his eye. "I was such an idiot."

"Did you love him?" Jim caught the tear, and left his hand on Blair's cheek.

"I wanted to. Maybe he knew I really didn't and that's why..."

"Just rest now, pal. You shouldn't be trying to talk." Jim stroked Blair's face gently. He felt the burning of tears behind his own eyes. "I'm going to take care of you. You're not going to hurt anymore, Chief."

"I probably look funny."

"What?"

"I try to keep it pulled back," Blair commented, referring to the hair that Jim was smoothing back from his face.

"Do you want to tell me what happened to it?"

"A guy I haven't seen in a long time came up to talk to me at a restaurant. I hugged him when he left. When we got home..." More tears slid out from under closed eyes. "When we got home, Vince grabbed a chunk of my hair and...and just...cut it off. Said that since I was coming on to other guys, maybe if I didn't look so good they wouldn't be interested."

"Bastard," Jim mumbled, catching Blair's tears with his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger.

"I stayed 'cause he said he'd mess up your career by telling everyone about me...that you'd been living with a faggot. Then he started telling me he'd kill you if I left him. That I wouldn't have anyone to go back to."

"Shit." Jim squeezed Blair's hand. "You're skin and bones, Chief."

"I don't eat much, I guess. He told me I was getting fat right after I moved in with him."

"That's a crock of shit."

"Didn't matter. I never feel good anymore anyway."

"Those days are over."

"He'll get out of jail, and he'll kill me. Or you." Blair winced in pain and grunted a little.

"How about some pain medication? You need rest."

"I need to tell you..."

"Blair, I'm going to stay right here next to your bed. You can sleep as long as you need to, and when you've rested, we'll talk more. Okay?" Blair nodded slightly, and Jim rang for the nurse. "As for Watson, he's history. If he even glances at you the wrong way, I'll kill him."

"You won't always be around."

"I will. Because as soon as you're released, I'm taking you home where you belong. No arguments."

"None here," Blair smiled a little sadly.

"Good boy." Jim smiled and patted the hand he held. "Here comes the lady with the feelgood juice," Jim said, still smiling at Blair as the nurse arrived.

Vince Watson was released on $50,000 bond, which was posted by his parents. He was pleading not guilty to all charges, claiming that Blair's bruises and his injuries were the result of a fight he'd had with an angry student, and that the "sexual assault" was part of a consensual S&M session that got out of hand.

Jim's protests to let him take the lead in the case had been ignored by Simon, who opted to handle it personally with Taggert's help. Disgusted at first by Simon's adherence to the procedure of keeping him out of a case in which he was emotionally involved, Jim recognized that what would do Blair the most good was having his attention and care during his recovery.

Blair's tale of abuse unfolded in painful little installments, whispered through tears to Jim as he sat hour upon hour at the side of the hospital bed, tape recorder at the ready so Blair wouldn't have to go through it twice.

"Vince has been coaching wrestling at the U for a couple years now," Blair began. "He always kind of reminded me of you--mainly his looks, because I didn't know him all that well. I know he made waves on campus about six months after he started there because he's openly gay. Doesn't seem like that should be such a hot potato on a college campus, but I guess it still is." Blair winced a little as he tried shifting in the bed. He was raised at a very slight angle to make it easier for him to have eye contact with Jim.

"Take it easy, Chief. Don't try to move around too much." Jim laid a restraining hand on Blair's shoulder.

"After I moved out of the loft, I got an apartment not far from the campus. I never was crazy about living alone--Jim?"

"What?"

"Can you turn that off?" Blair nodded toward the tape recorder. "I don't care if I have to tell it again later. I just want to be able to tell you...without the tape rolling."

"Sure thing, Chief." Jim turned off the recorder and set it on the bedside table.

"Thanks." He forced a little smile. "I was lonely, and Vince reminded me of you. This whole thing...it's karma, man. I used him."

"Nothing you could have done would have justified this."

"I made it a point to run into him at different functions at the U, and I let him know I was interested. He took the bait."

"So you started dating?"

"Yeah. Real casual stuff at first. Then he made a move on me after about our third time out together. He moved fast. I mean, he didn't waste much time on kissing. He just...was all hands all of a sudden. But I wasn't objecting. I mean, this was a fantasy, sort of. And I could...pretend he was you." Blair looked away, blushing furiously.

"It's okay, pal. I'm not mad. I'm flattered."

"You weren't flattered last year."

"I was shocked...thrown. I didn't handle it very well."

"We didn't go all that far--just a lot of groping and hand jobs in the car--that kind of thing. Then he asked me about moving in with him. I liked the idea. I mean, Vince wasn't the lover of my dreams or anything, but he treated me pretty well then. I used to get on him for treating me like his girlfriend because he always insisted on buying everything when we went out, and he bought me gifts... Anyhow, I moved in with him, and the first night I was there, he wanted to do something special to celebrate."

"Doesn't sound like it was much of a celebration, huh?" Jim didn't know why he took Blair's hand in his at that moment, but he just felt something painful coming, and judging by the return pressure he felt from Blair's hand, it was the right move.

"I was ready to try it all the way--you know--getting fucked."

"You were ready to try it?"

"Jim, I told you before that I had bi tendencies. I never did anything about them until I met you. And when that didn't work out...I never had sex that way before Vince. God, Jim, nothing ever hurt like that did." Blair tried to swallow the tears, but they came anyway. Jim covered their joined hands with his free hand.

"He didn't take it very easy on you, did he, Chief?"

"No," Blair forced out, shaking his head. "I don't know if he used anything. I know he wore protection, and I think he used a little spit. He just made me roll over and... Oh, God, Jim, it hurt so bad I thought I was gonna split in half." Blair was crying openly now, surprising Jim with the strength of his grip.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Blair." Jim kept his hold on Blair's hand and used his other hand to stroke Blair's too-thin forearm.

"The whole time, I was yelling at him to stop, that it hurt. He wouldn't."

"Son of a bitch," Jim muttered under his breath.

"When he was done, he told me the first time always hurt and that I had to learn to relax or it was always gonna hurt like that." Blair shook his head. "I was so scared. I was bleeding, and he was so...cold. It's like he got what he wanted and then he rolled over and went to sleep. I was lying there in all this pain, and all he did was pat my ass and tell me to settle down and go to sleep." Blair took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together. "When I woke up, there was a pretty good patch of blood on the sheet. I was in a lot of pain so I went to the clinic. I was scared something was damaged."

"Was it?"

"I was torn up, but the doctor said he thought I'd heal up okay on my own and gave me some medication. I was so damned... embarrassed. Anyway, when Vince got home, I told him I'd gone to the clinic--you know, kind of conversational. I didn't think he'd be upset. It's not like I told on him or anything. And the way he reacted to all of it at the time made me think maybe I was just being too uptight to enjoy it. So I wasn't even accusatory to him."

"But he went ballistic, right?" Jim prodded gently.

"The first thing he did was backhand me and tell me that what went on in our bedroom was nobody else's business. I wasn't any match for him. My back was stiff from the night before and he's like...massive. He just beat the crap out of me."

"Why didn't you leave him, Blair? Good God, you know better. You know all sorts of cops now. Anyone would've helped you."

"I was shocked...dazed...I didn't know what to do." Blair ran his hand through his hair. "I dragged myself into the bedroom and lay on the bed a while. He came in a few minutes later and begged me to forgive him and cried and told me I was the only thing that mattered to him and he was afraid I was leaving, and that's why he went after me that way...and that he thought someone was going to think he'd raped me. He was good, Jim. He had me comforting him, even when I could hardly move to do it."

"That was an insensitive question."

"But a natural one. One I've asked myself over and over and over again." Blair paused, then continued, "Nothing else like that happened for probably a month or so. But the sex was horrible. He got off on doing it rough, and if I complained, he did it harder. Looking back, the pain got him off." Blair wiped away a couple of fresh tears with the hand that didn't have a death grip on Jim. "I thought if he knew he was really hurting me, he'd back off a little. He started calling me a tight-assed little bitch after about the third time we did it and I screamed the whole time. He told me I was the one with the problem and it should be getting easier, and that I was too uptight--or that I didn't really love him." Blair shrugged. "That hit home, man. Because I didn't. I loved having someone who looked like you. But even that...I tried not to think about it that way anymore because I didn't want to connect you to him in any way."

"When was the next time he hit you?"

"We had a fight about something--they were all yelling matches. He shoved me around a lot, even if he wasn't hitting me. I told him I was sick of the whole fucking mess and that I was leaving. I was getting brave because I heard the siren and I knew the cops were almost there."

"So why didn't you leave with them?"

"He said if I told the cops, they'd know you had been living with a faggot for two years, and it would be the end of your career. He also told me that he knew all these ways to kill someone with the right headlock--and that he'd take you out if I left him."

"You should know by now that I can take on something the likes of Vince, Chief."

"Jim, he looked...larger than life to me. He was the star of all my nightmares, I was always afraid of him. And he had a point. I knew what that would make you look like if I were hauled into the precinct complaining about getting fucked too hard and beaten up by my boyfriend. And I was ashamed."

"Of what?"

"That he could do that to me. That he could force me like that. That I couldn't defend myself better."

"He's a very large guy, Chief. He'd be a real challenge for me. I'm not saying I couldn't take him and win, I just mean he wouldn't go down easy. You don't have combat training, and you don't carry a gun. You wouldn't be a match for a creep like that."

"I told the cops everything was okay. And the half dozen times they showed up there, I did the same thing."

"Did he hit you often?"

"Not at first. He pushed me a lot--manhandling stuff. He'd blow up about something and hit me maybe once a week or so, on the average. He yelled at me for damn near everything, and he'd get mad and do things--like when he cut my hair. He started hitting me more often--and harder--in the last month or so. And he got really mean...meaner than usual. It was getting so he never treated me with anything but violence. He really beat me up probably about three times total, but only once did he slip up and mark my face."

"Why did he beat you?"

"Once, the time I told you about, another time because I forgot a dinner and awards program he wanted me to go to with him--and that was a lousy thing for me to do. I just lost track of time. The last time was after he found out I'd gone to the hospital to see you. He was beyond jealous of you. He knew I loved you--he overheard me talking to Naomi on the phone once. So he accused me of fooling around with you."

"So when Ryf and Brown showed up, he'd already beaten you?"

"Yeah. He just knew enough to leave my face alone. After they left, he...he raped me." Blair didn't try to fight the tears that came now. He leaned into the hand that Jim laid against his cheek with one thumb brushing away some of the tears. "I really fought him that time," Blair gasped through a sob. "I told him 'no', and...and I fought him...'til he got me...pinned down. He hurt me so bad," Blair concluded, his face distorted with both the tears and the pain they were causing his injuries.

"It's all over, Chief." Jim lowered the side rail on the bed and sat carefully on the edge. He didn't know quite how to embrace Blair without hurting him, but he leaned down so he was close enough for Blair to feel his warmth. He rested his forearms on either side of his friend's shoulders. "I'm right here. You're all done suffering, you hear me?" Jim felt weak hands grasp his jacket.

"He was going to...if you hadn't come after me...he was going to..."

"I know. Oh, Blair, I know." Jim cautiously slid his arms under the frail body beneath him and held Blair gently. He wondered how long it had been since someone had touched Blair with love.

"I wasn't...I'm not a whore...I was faithful...to him."

"I know that. I know what a beautiful person you are, Chief. Don't let the rotten things he said and did to you make you believe any differently."

"I missed you so much," Blair sobbed, clinging to Jim's jacket until his knuckles were white. "I wanna go home," he moaned into Jim's shoulder.

"As soon as the doc gives you the green light, I'm taking you home."

"I promise I won't...I won't be any trouble. I won't...I won't ever ask you...I mean, I can't...with anybody...anyway. I don't know if...I ever can."

"Shhhh. None of that matters right now, baby." Jim didn't know where the endearment came from, but he didn't regret it. Blair needed all the love and reassurance Jim was capable of giving. He'd lived through a nightmare, and somehow had been terrorized by the sadist he lived with into thinking that he had to endure the abuse to protect Jim. For that brainwashing alone, Jim wanted Watson dead. For so many reasons...

"Jim?" The voice was strained, but sounded less frantic than before.

"What, Chief?" Jim pulled back a little and grabbed a tissue from the bedside table to blot the tears off Blair's face.

"I'm gonna be a lot of trouble when I get outta here. The doctor said I'm gonna have to stay off my feet and...and there's Vince--"

"Blair, listen to me. Number one, you are not going to be any trouble to me. I've felt so damned...alone since you walked out... Well, the point is, you couldn't be any 'trouble' to me if you tried. Number two, Simon and Joel have made crucifying Watson a personal pet project, which means Simon is 'assigning' me to guard you. Like he could keep me away." Jim snorted a little laugh.

"Everybody knows I've been with a guy, Jim. What if they think--I mean, if there's anybody you want me to set straight--oh, man, what a choice of words," Blair actually chuckled a little, holding onto his incision. Jim drank in the sight of that beautiful smile, even if it faltered a little with the pain.

"Don't worry about me. Just concentrate on resting."

"You should go home and get some sleep. And shower."

"Thanks a lot, buddy," Jim laughed at Blair's pointed comment. The younger man smiled guiltily.

"I mean it, Jim. Maybe you could get somebody we know to take a shift for a few hours so you could get some sleep."

"I'll go home and shower, shave and change. Then I'll come back and sleep here."

"You'll ruin your back."

"I'm fine. I'll see if I can get a hold of Ryf and Brown to keep an eye on you. I'll be back before dark."

Surveillance of Vince Watson had shown that he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary since his arrest. He'd been suspended from his job at Rainier pending the outcome of the charges, but his attorney was appealing that penalty. Further, he had complained that Jim threatened him with death in front of several neighborhood witnesses. Upon questioning the neighbors, who had all listened to Blair's abuse at one time or another, all seemed to develop deficient hearing and memory lapses as to what was said on the lawn that early morning in question. A trial date had been set several weeks down the road, as was usually the case with Cascade's jammed court dockets.

Jim took Blair home from the hospital a week after his surgery. Knowing that isolating Blair in his old bedroom wouldn't be exactly what he needed emotionally, Jim made up a bed on the couch so Blair could spend his waking hours in the living room. At night, Jim would be sleeping on a roll away bed in Blair's room, both to reassure Blair and to give him maximum protection.

His first real exposure to Blair's injuries came as he helped his friend change from the soft suit of sweats he'd worn home from the hospital into a lightweight pair of pajamas that were more suited to the mild temperatures of June. He managed to control his reaction in front of Blair, but it only strengthened his resolve to see Watson burn in hell for what he'd done.

After helping his frail partner with a sponge bath, Jim got him settled into bed for the night. With a fatigued yawn, he curled up on the roll away, facing Blair across the two feet between their beds. Not having slept in a bed since he'd been reunited with Blair, it only took moments before he was asleep.

It was Blair's shout and subsequent gasps that shook Jim out of his deep and much-needed bed rest. He found the younger man staring at him wide-eyed, his breathing heavy and ragged. And a pungent odor assailed him at the same time.

"Bad dream?" Jim asked gently, sitting up on the edge of his own bed. He wanted Blair to have a moment to adjust to the darkness and figure out his surroundings before advancing toward him.

"I...I had an...accident," Blair stammered.

"It's okay, Chief. We'll get you cleaned up." Jim sat on the edge of Blair's bed and stroked the long hair back from the sweaty face on the pillow. "Did you have to go or do you have trouble holding it?"

"I didn't think I had to. I mean...I'm real sore there, and I just thought...I thought it was just the pain again, and I should've gone, but then I didn't want to wake you up again, and--"

"Whoa, whoa, easy does it, buddy. I'm not mad at you." Jim laid his hand on Blair's cheek. "I just wanted to know if it's something we should tell the doctor about, or if you had to go and the dream startled you and...kaboom."

"That's about it. I can't tell always because I'm... everything hurts down there."

"The doctor said your bladder was bruised. Makes it feel like you always have to go, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Is that why you were dehydrated when you got to the hospital? You were trying not to drink so you didn't have to go?"

"I got in trouble for waking Vince up all the time. He used to shove me out of the bed when I'd get back in."

"He did what?" Jim's voice was strained with disbelief.

"I told him I was sorry...I didn't mean it...but he'd be mad at me for waking him up and so he'd shove me until I fell on the floor and told me to go sleep in the living room if I was going to spend all night pissing like an old man." Blair trailed off as tears took over. "I already hurt so bad...why did he hate me so much?"

"He was a sadist, Chief. It wasn't you." Jim pushed the hair back from Blair's forehead in a few gentle strokes. "I'm here to help you, partner. If you need to go to the bathroom ten times a night, that's what we'll do. And if you still wet the bed, we'll change the sheets and wash you up and start over."

"Why do you want me here? I'm...a basket case."

"Yeah, but you've got potential." Jim smiled as Blair grinned a little in spite of his misery. "I want you here because this is your home, and I love you. Good enough?"

"Beyond good." Blair smiled.

"Okay. Now let's get you clean and dry."

With fresh sheets on the bed, Blair in dry boxers and a tank shirt, Jim drew the sheet up to his friend's chest. It was upsetting to Jim to see the automatic fear response in Blair every time he made any demand on the older man for care. Maybe sadder than the thought of anyone living with the constant pain of severe physical abuse was the thought of that person living in constant fear of being punished for things totally beyond his control. Watson injured Blair and bruised him, leaving him in the condition he was in, and then abused him for having symptoms of the injuries.

"Want to talk about the nightmare?" Jim held a glass while Blair took a few swallows of water. "Take a breath or two and then drink some more. If you have to go again, go. You need the fluids." Blair obeyed, and Jim finally set the almost empty glass aside as the other man settled back on the pillows.

"Same old dream," Blair mumbled.

"He isn't going to get in here, Chief. And if he does, I'm not going to be the one who goes down. They'll be carrying him out in a sandwich bag. I promise."

"If he killed you, I...I couldn't--"

"He isn't going to. I'm fine and I'm going to stay that way."

"If you say so." Blair's eyes drifted partially closed, then a grimace of pain crossed his face as he tried to shift to a more comfortable position.

"What hurts?"

"My back. It's so stiff, and it hurts."

"Can you turn on your good side?" Jim guided him to his right side. "I'm going to give you a little back rub, buddy." Blair was facing Jim where he sat on the edge of the bed, and he felt a large, warm hand slip under his undershirt and start a slow, gentle rubbing. "Don't be afraid if my hand moves down a little. It won't go anywhere you're hurting."

"I know," Blair replied, his voice a bit strained. "You're so good to me."

"You're easy to be good to, buddy." Jim realized how true that statement was. Blair asked him for very little, and was grateful for whatever he got. He'd been so badly abused for so long that any act of kindness or affection was received with such gratitude that it made something twist inside Jim's heart.

"I thought I was going to die."

"You mean in the hospital?"

"No. With him. I realized it one morning after he left for a two-day coaches' seminar. I was thinking about how I could get away from him. I could go to Naomi, but he might follow me, and find her. So I thought about calling you. I saved your voice mails, you know."

"You did?" Jim asked, smiling as he carefully rubbed the stiff muscles in Blair's back.

"Yeah. I used to listen to them sometimes when I really missed you. Or I'd call my voicemail from home when I...I wasn't feeling good, and sometimes, I'd listen to my saved messages. It was kinda like still talking to you. I missed you so much."

"I wish you'd called me, Chief."

"I was going to...that morning. But then I thought about what it would mean to your job if Vince told everybody, and I thought about...about all the threats he'd made about you--that he'd kill you...and I knew I couldn't call you." Blair sighed. "And I started thinking about dying. I don't mean taking my own life, but I knew I wasn't doing very well. I was too skinny, I didn't have any energy, and I knew my body wasn't going to put up with Vince much longer all the way around. I lay there on the couch and actually felt kind of peaceful because I figured it wouldn't be much longer. I mean, if I died, he couldn't hurt anybody I loved, and he couldn't get anything else out of me, and it would be over."

"Oh, Blair. Damn, I wish you'd just called me." Jim didn't worry about hiding the few tears that were sliding down his own cheeks now. Maybe it would help Blair to know just how much he was loved, and how much his pain hurt Jim.

"My biggest regret was that you'd think I didn't care about you anymore. I was afraid you wouldn't know. I felt so crappy about not calling you back ever. I listened to all your old messages that morning, and I kind of said goodbye. I didn't expect to live a whole lot longer."

"When was that?" Jim had ceased really massaging, but just let his hand rub slow, gentle circles on Blair's stiff lower back.

"About two weeks before everything...before you came to get me." Blair looked into Jim's eyes. "Thanks for coming and getting me, Jim. For not forgetting about me."

"I'd have never forgotten you, Chief. And if you hadn't made it, I'd have made sure Watson paid dearly for it. He still will." Jim stroked Blair's cheek lightly with the backs of the fingers of his free hand.

"My back feels better. Thanks."

"Shhh. Just close your eyes. Let yourself drift."

"Aren't you tired?"

"Nope. I'm just fine." //I like touching you, giving you so much love that you'll have to get better, grow back into the beautiful Blair I've missed so much.//

"Jim?"

"What, buddy?"

"I never really loved Vince."

"I know. It's okay, baby. It's all over. None of it's your fault. Go to sleep. You'll feel a little better every day. You'll see."

"I believe you," Blair murmured, drifting a little. Jim smiled when an arm draped over his knee as Blair settled into sleep.

Blair remained quiet and subdued in the coming days, but he crept out of his shell more and more with Jim. His starved soul seemed to be feeding on the kindness and TLC Jim was giving him. He began to eat a little more heartily, and soon there was some healthy color coming back into his pale face.

His frequent trips to the bathroom lessened as the days passed, and the nightmares eased. With Jim's gentle encouragements for him to go whenever he had to, the bed-wetting incident was never repeated. Reconditioning Blair not to be afraid of a violent reaction to everything he said or did and not to fear asking for what he needed were the biggest challenges of supervising his recovery. It was surprisingly easy, Jim found, to hold Blair or comfort him or come right out and say the dreaded "L-word", despite Jim's natural tendencies to keep his feelings unspoken. The only real smiles he got out of Blair were in response to those moments, and to see the familiar smile he missed so much was worth overcoming a few inhibitions.

Jim's next order of business was to do something with the uneven mop of hair that had been neglected far too long.

"What do you say we get you a decent haircut, Chief?" Jim had watched Blair self-consciously try to stuff the shorter hair behind his ear for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. It wasn't actually any shorter than he'd seen Blair wear his hair at various times, but it was a little tougher to keep in the ponytail, and it looked silly opposite the longer side, which had been let go longer than Blair usually wore it.

"I can't." Blair was absorbed in a book he was reading when Jim brought up the subject.

"Sure you can."

"Vince said I had to leave it like this."

"Blair, the son of a bitch isn't here!" Jim immediately regretted the outburst when Blair flinched away from the angry words. "I'm sorry, Chief. I just hate what that bastard did to you."

"D'you think you could fix it?" Blair looked up at him hopefully.

"You want to trust me to cut your hair?"

"You can't do worse than my last haircut," Blair stated, then smiled a little.

"You have a point there," Jim replied, laughing. "Okay. Sit tight." Jim disappeared into the bathroom and soon returned with a towel, scissors and a wide-toothed comb Blair had left behind. "Relax. I won't cut a lot off at a time. I'll just try to get it even, okay?"

"Whatever. I already look weird, so I have nowhere to go but up."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Chief." Jim snorted a little laugh as he put the towel around Blair's shoulders as he sat propped on the couch. Carefully starting with the hair near the spot that had been bluntly chopped off, Jim hesitantly cut the first locks and watched the little wavy sections stick to the towel. As he moved his hands through the soft hair, he thought back to the painful separation that had led to all this.

//Would touching Blair as more than a friend really be all that repulsive?// He viewed every part of his friend's body with love and protectiveness, and seeing the shattered spirit on the mend, and the sparkle coming back into Blair's eyes, he realized that he didn't exactly see Blair as unattractive, either. //Those big blue eyes, that 1000-watt smile, the sweet, loving soul who always gave me so much...//

"Almost done?" Blair asked.

"Yeah, almost," Jim responded absently, jarred back to reality by his friend's voice. He realized he'd neatly trimmed most of the hair to match the length of the shorter section. //Damn Watson. He kept Blair from cutting his hair to even it out even when the shorter section was as long as Blair often wore his hair. He looks like my Blair again... My Blair? Where the hell did that come from?//

"Am I bald now?" Blair needled.

"No. You've got a nice brush cut."

"Ha Ha Ha," Blair sneered back.

"See for yourself." Jim handed him the hand-held mirror.

"Wow...I look...almost normal."

"Didn't know I'd been taking classes at the Cascade Beauty School while you were gone, did you?" Jim carefully removed the towel containing the fallen hair and took it out to the balcony to shake it.

"Thanks, man. It looks a lot better."

"Say, Ryf and Brown couldn't find your laptop at Watson's place. Is it at your office? I figured you'd be getting itchy to at least do a little 'net surfing by now."

"Vince broke it."

"What?" Jim sat on the end of the couch, a few inches from Blair's stocking-clad feet.

"He said I was spending more time with it than I was with him. So he smashed it. I couldn't afford another one, and that one was pretty totaled."

"I'm sorry, Chief." Jim held back his anger. It wasn't helping Blair to see him blow up every time he confided something painful he'd lived through with Watson. Blair needed a peaceful reception to his memories, or he'd start holding them inside. Jim picked up Blair's feet and moved over so he could hold them on his lap. "Soon as you're feeling better, we'll go out and shop for a new one, huh?"

"I don't have any money, Jim. All I've got is a stipend from Rainier, and I had to give Vince most of that for my part of the rent and expenses. Believe me, the laptop is the least of my worries."

"You don't have to be worried about anything. You're safe here."

"I know that. I just...I know he's out there." Blair smiled slightly. "You can't sleep on that roll away bed in my room forever."

"Wanna bet?" Jim started absentmindedly massaging the small feet in his lap. "Until we know Watson is in the slammer, I'm not going anywhere. There's enough room for both of us in the big bed upstairs, but I don't think you should even try steps yet, and I don't want you to fall trying to go to the bathroom at night."

"I can't sleep in your bed, man. Not ever. Geez, Jim, why don't you just ask a drunk to sleep in a vat of whiskey?" Blair took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "My feelings haven't changed since last year. Even though I'd rather be shot than have to think about...about having sex with anybody."

"That was insensitive of me. I'm sorry."

"No, I am. You don't deserve me snapping your head off." Blair smiled and leaned back into the soft pillows behind him. "Ohh, that feels so good." He flexed his toes as Jim rubbed his foot.

"No matter what our...falling out was...I never stopped loving you, Blair. It might not have been the love you wanted, but it was always there. And it still is." Jim watched the other man's eyes fill with tears.

"Nobody's...since I left...nobody's ever...touched me to make me feel good," he said in a voice little above a whisper.

"Get used to it. You're going to be spoiled rotten during this recovery."

"Why did I do this to myself?!" Blair shouted angrily, tears spilling as he held onto his protesting side. "I walked away from...from you and then I let that...that son of a bitch treat me like this!! I don't deserve your friendship after what I've done," Blair concluded, starting to cry in earnest now.

"Hey, just hold on a minute." Jim gently moved the feet back to the cushion and moved up to sit on the edge of the couch. He carefully encouraged Blair into his arms. "That's it. Let it out. Be careful of your stitches, Chief." Jim held him as tightly as Blair's injuries allowed. "You did a very logical thing by leaving here when I...I couldn't love you like you wanted me to. And Vince Watson took advantage of you when you were lonely and hurting. And he was a sick, perverted sadist, buddy."

"But I should know better," Blair sobbed. "I'm sup-supposed t-t-to be sm-smart."

"Brilliant people sometimes get trapped in an abusive situation. This isn't your fault. Just relax and have a good cry. I'm right here."

"I let him..."

"You were afraid for me. And he was huge. Shit, Blair, he's bigger than I am. You didn't stand a chance against someone like that. You didn't let him do anything. And you aren't a bad person because you got involved in a bad relationship. He abused you. He's the one who's guilty. Not you. Not you at all."

"I missed you so much. I thought...after I-I l-left...I thought I was gonna die all by myself without you." Blair grasped handfuls of Jim's shirt. "It hurts."

"I know. Everything hurts, doesn't it?" He felt a nod against his shoulder. "The pain is going to get better. You'll heal, Blair. I won't let you not heal, do you hear me? I don't know what the future is going to hold for either one of us, but I do know that I love you. And for what that's worth, I'll be between you and anything that threatens you for as long as you want me here."

"It's worth my life, Jim," Blair pulled back a little. "I was ready to die to keep you safe. I'd do it all again if it meant you'd be safe." Blair dropped his gaze after that declaration. Jim gently took a hold of Blair's chin and raised his face slowly until he was looking into the wet eyes again.

"No one's ever loved me the way you do." Before he realized what was happening, he leaned forward and brushed his lips lightly over Blair's.

"You don't have to--"

"Shh." Jim returned to those soft lips and lightly pressed against them, giving Blair the gentlest kiss he could manage.

"Jim, what--"

"I don't know, Chief. I just know I love you. And all of a sudden, that's hitting me like a freight train."

"But I can't do anything--I don't know if I'll ever be able to stand...somebody touching me like that..."

"Right now, just hold onto the love. Nothing else matters. With that, everything else will fall into place. I don't know how yet, and I don't know how to handle what I feel, but I know I love you, and I've put you through too much hell holding those feelings back."

"If you love me...all of this was worth it."

"Nothing is worth you getting hurt this way. But that doesn't mean something...beautiful can't grow out of an ugly situation. I just...Blair, I'm sorry I'm such a hung up jerk."

"That's okay. I like you that way." Blair smiled at Jim's surprised expression, and then Jim felt the tension ease a little and he laughed, giving Blair a gentle hug.

Jim returned from the grocery store, happy to see Blair engrossed in tutoring Daryl on his biology homework while Simon read a book quietly in a chair near the balcony windows. Watson was still out on bond, so it was necessary to have someone watching Blair at all times.

Jim had to stop himself from automatically going to where Blair sat and planting a little kiss on his forehead or his cheek. While neither of them were ready for anything physical, Blair seemed so hungry for any little expressions of affection that Jim had made it a habit to bestow the chaste little kisses before Blair went to sleep, or sometimes just in connection with a whispered "I love you" while he'd sit on the couch with Blair's head cushioned with a pillow in his lap.

Instead of something as obvious as a kiss, he let his free hand lightly caress the soft curls as he paused at the back of the couch.

"How's the study session going?"

"Man, I still hate this stuff," Daryl grumbled.

"You don't have to love it to learn it, Daryl," Simon spoke up from his post in the chair.

"But it helps," Blair amended, smiling. "Look, when you have to take that botany class in the fall, maybe I can go on some nature walks with you. I know a lot about plants."

"Hey, that'd be great!" Daryl enthused. Facing his freshman year of college and the first of his required classes, the thought of having his own personal botany tutor was more than slightly attractive. Blair had already put in a request to have Daryl as his student employee when he started at Rainier in late August.

"Well, we better get going, Daryl. I have to be at a meeting in less than an hour, and I have to drop you off first."

"Okay."

"Hey--do a little dancing at the concert tonight for me huh? I really wanted to go to that. I expect a full run-down."

"No problem, Blair. If I get backstage, I'll get you an autograph." Daryl was gathering up his things.

"Concert? I thought you had your summer class tomorrow morning?" Simon asked.

"Mom said it was okay. Besides, Blair and I got through all my homework."

"All right then. Blair--thanks again." Simon smiled at Blair, who was up to at least getting dressed now, and looked very much like the old Blair just three weeks after his surgery.

"Hey, my pleasure. Unlike Daryl here, I do like biology. It was fun."

"I'll give you a call later," Simon directed at Jim as he was heading out the door.

"Yeah, thanks, Simon. See you, Daryl." Jim smiled as the younger Banks waved on his way out behind his father. "How do you feel, Chief?"

"Not too bad. Does that offer still stand to go out to eat tonight?"

"Sure. I didn't buy anything that won't keep." Jim loaded a few items into the refrigerator. "We can take your car. It's easier for you to get into than the truck, isn't it?"

"Yeah--but man, your legs are gonna be up under your chin trying to drive that."

"I'll manage." Jim laughed a bit as he put the last of the groceries away. Then he went over to Blair and planted the little kiss on his temple.

"What's that for?" Blair looked up, smiling.

"Because I couldn't do it while Simon was here. At least, not yet."

"The trial starts in a few weeks."

"Don't worry about that, buddy. We're going to nail his ass to the wall. We've got neighbors who will testify to hearing what was going on, as well as the hospital reports, the doctor, and the clinic report from when you went there." Jim paused, then sat on the arm of the other couch. "Blair, is there anything else we could pursue? Anything else you know about Watson?"

"Keith Park."

"What?"

"He dated a guy named Keith Park, who lived with him when he lived in Tacoma. He said he really loved him...and that Keith died in some kind of accident."

"My God--you don't think...why not? If he'd treat you the way he did...that was only a matter of time."

"There might be something to it, Jim. He hit me for going through the box the photo album was in. It was about three months after I moved in. All my stuff was piled up in the corners of rooms, and he was getting on me for the mess. I was afraid of what he was gonna do to me if I didn't clean it up. So I thought I'd look through the closet and see if there was some of his stuff he wasn't using that I could move downstairs--there's a little basement under the unit. I was just trying to take a look at what was in the box to see if it could be stored in the basement. I found a photo album, and there were pictures of this young guy with blond hair and a mustache. There were a lot of photos of the two of them together."

"Anything odd about the photos?"

"Not really. Could have just been two friends for all the photos showed. Anyhow, he came home and found me looking at it... let's just say he was pissed off. Later, he apologized, and told me that seeing the photos again had just given him so many painful memories that he lashed out at me. And he said that Keith had died in an accident three years ago, while he was still living in Tacoma."

"He never said what kind of accident?"

"No, and I was so not willing to piss him off by asking about it." Blair sighed. "But he did seem a little uneasy that I had found out about Keith. I think that was why he hit me. Along with the fact that the sky is blue or it was Tuesday or the Jags were having a bad season." Blair slumped back on the couch. "I gave up trying to figure it out after a while. It didn't have a pattern."

"Was he ever nice to you?" Jim asked, sincerely curious.

"Treated me like royalty when we started going out. He bought me gifts, did little romantic things...I thought he really loved me--I mean, he was just indulging me because he loved me, right? Yeah, right." Blair crossed his arms over his chest, focusing his gaze on the floor.

"I want to make him suffer for what he did to you. I can't get over that feeling."

"If he rots in jail, he'll suffer."

"How can you be so...so level-headed about this?" Jim asked, becoming frustrated by Blair's lack of anger.

"I sat back and let him beat up on me, abuse me, terrorize me...sometimes I feel like a fucking hypocrite for pressing charges against him. It's not like I ever walked out."

"You were afraid."

"It's weird. Since I've been back home, and...and the way you've treated me...and remembering what life was like before... I can't picture why I ever stayed with him. But then, it was like he had this...power...and he became more like a bogeyman of some sort than just another bully. Maybe it's like being in a cult. Sometimes people go into those lifestyles and end up doing bizarre things like voluntary mass suicides, self-mutilation..."

"They're brainwashed."

"Exactly. I don't know, man. The last few weeks...you taking care of me...it's been like being 'deprogrammed'."

"I don't think any of this was your fault, Chief. Don't ever feel I do, okay?" Jim sat sideways on the couch next to Blair. "It was mine for being such a cold, unyielding hard-ass."

"It wasn't your fault you didn't want to have sex with a man. And you didn't throw me out. I left on my own and found Vince all by myself."

"I never moved any of your things...well, you know that now. It was like a death. The things you left behind...they were all I had left."

"I know I should've called you back, but honestly, Jim, I couldn't handle talking to you. Leaving was the hardest thing I ever did--even harder than living with Vince. I couldn't look back."

"I'm glad you ended up back here. I'm sorry it was such an awful road." He reached out and stroked Blair's hair lightly.

"I don't think I can ever...let somebody...touch me that way again, Jim. I mean, maybe Vince was right. Maybe I just couldn't do it right."

"You were inexperienced with that kind of sex, and the only way you could have enjoyed your first time would have been with a lot of love and patience and preparation. A sadist who doesn't even use lube who's twice your size would tear you apart. That doesn't make you deficient somehow." Jim watched Blair's throat working to hold back tears. "Were you ever not afraid of him when he came after you for sex?"

"No, because it always hurt," he murmured, a tear sliding down his cheek. Jim moved over and pulled his friend into his arms. "Maybe he was right and I was just...too uptight."

"It wasn't you at all, buddy. It makes sense if you're trying to put something that's damn close to being too big for the opening into the body of someone who's all tied up in knots with fear, you're going to hurt that person. Badly."

"Sometimes I think he just wanted to see me...hurt. I don't think he ever really loved me," Blair concluded in a broken voice.

"Maybe he didn't, but I do, baby."

"That's what's so damn...unfair!" Blair sobbed into his shoulder. "Now that you can love me, I can't love you!"

"Shhhh. Of course we can love each other. We're doing that right now."

"But I can't...there's nothing left of me," Blair moaned desolately as the tears flowed. "I'm afraid. I'm so afraid."

"I know. It's okay." Jim let his hand slip into the mop of curls, pressing Blair's head against his shoulder.

"What if I can't ever...do that? What good am I? It isn't fair to you."

"Maybe Watson equated your worth as a person with your ability to give him sex, but that's him, not me. There are dozens of ways to make love that don't include that one act--we could make each other feel good for a lifetime and never do that."

"I feel like...I feel like dirty, used trash," Blair whimpered.

"You're not. There's nothing dirty or bad about you. But I understand what you mean. That's kind of a natural way to feel, even if it is stupid." Jim felt a little snort of a laugh at that harsh assessment. "Love doesn't have to hurt, and kisses don't have to bruise. You'll see."

"I can't believe you still want me--or that you want me at all. When I left--"

"When you left, I wasn't ready to face what I felt." Jim patted Blair's back lightly. After almost a month away from Watson, the bruises were nearly completely invisible, there was a little meat on the lean frame, and Blair was sleeping through the night without meeting the demands of a bruised bladder. His arms had some strength again as they wrapped around Jim's middle.

"What if he isn't convicted?"

"He will be."

"What if he isn't?"

"No matter what happens in that court room, he won't get near you again. You can count on that." Jim started a slight rocking motion, relieved to feel the sobs easing to an occasional sniffle.

"If you go after him, you'll end up in jail. I can't stand losing you again."

"You won't lose me. I didn't spend all that time in Covert Ops learning how to crochet. Just trust me on this one, Chief. If the court fucks it up, I'll take care of it."

"But, Jim--"

"Don't ask me anymore questions. Just trust me. Watson's finished, one way or the other."

"Jim?"

"What, Chief?"

"Does that offer still stand to bunk in with you if the doctor says I can do steps okay?"

"You bet it does."

"I'd like that."

"Me too." He kissed the top of Blair's head. "Getting hungry yet?"

"Kind of."

"Want to go somewhere classy?"

"No. I want to go to WonderBurger."

"What? Junk food? You?" Jim laughed and cuddled Blair closer. "Sure you didn't have a head injury?"

"I haven't had a burger in...forever."

"Really?"

"Vince didn't let me eat anything like that."

"He didn't let you?"

"He said I needed to lose weight, so he'd keep an eye on what I was eating. After a while I just didn't eat anymore. I didn't care."

"Well, I want you to eat whatever you want whenever you want it. Got that?"

"Got it. I don't wanna move though. It feels so good to be home."

"I know."

"I don't remember him ever holding me like this. For any reason. God, Jim, he didn't love me at all."

"Then he was a jerk with no taste."

"I feel so safe here. Like nothing can get at me."

"You are safe."

"I'm not in pain. I mean, my side's a little tender yet, but I'm not in pain. And I don't have to go to the bathroom. I've been in pain, and...and running to the bathroom every few minutes for so long...it seems funny to feel okay."

"You're healing up."

"Yeah. I am. I never got a chance to heal up before."

"I know I can't take away everything you went through, but you're never going to have to feel that way again."

"Keep telling me. I might believe it."

"I feel someone's stomach growling." Jim chuckled a little.

"Yeah, I'm ready to eat." Blair shifted away from Jim to sit up straight.

"I think I'm going for one of those double-deckers with everything," Jim announced, as they stood, motioning to Blair to sit down again. "Don't even think about bending over to tie your shoes. Not until the doctor gives you the green light for stuff like that." Jim knelt in front of his partner and placed one foot, then the other in Blair's ratty sneakers. "You need new ones, Chief."

"Can't afford 'em right now."

"How much were you giving Watson for rent, anyway?"

"About $800 a month."

"What? How much was he paying a month on that place you were living in?"

"I don't know. I never asked. I, um, was afraid to ask him about it. But he said that was my half of the living expenses--rent, food, utilities, spending money..." Blair shrugged.

"Bastard. I don't suppose you ever saw any of that spending money." Jim tied the second shoe.

"He put a lot of his money in the bank--said he was saving it for a rainy day. We lived off my money most of the time. I paid for a lot of times we went out to eat--he'd throw it back in my face that I'd asked to pay my share when we were just dating. I just never had any money. I couldn't use what I did have because he expected me to have cash on hand."

"We'll stop somewhere and look at shoes tonight if you feel up to it." Jim swallowed his inclination to rant about Watson again.

"Jim, I already told you, I don't--"

"No arguments. I'm getting you new shoes."

"You don't have to do that. These are okay."

"They're worn out, Chief. Come on--I remember a guy who used to wear the latest in Nike hiking shoes. You can't tell me these tattered wrecks are what you want."

"I don't want to come back into your life and cause a bunch of trouble."

"Did it ever occur to you I might like doing things for you?" Jim patted Blair's leg and straightened up to stand. "Come on. Time to chow down."

Due to the length of this story, it's been split into four parts for easier loading.  
After All

by Candy Apple  
Author's webpage: http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/3281

Continued from part one.

After All - part two  
By Candy Apple

Blair's doctor was more than pleased with his progress at his next check-up. The incision was healing nicely, his weight was back in the normal range, his blood work was normal, and his blood pressure only marginally elevated, which the doctor chalked up to the impending trial and the strain of the healing process.

"You're doing just fine, Blair. Just don't over-exert yourself for the next couple weeks yet. You should be fine to go ahead with your normal activities. Extreme things like jogging or working out should wait until after your final check-up."

"I had a good nurse," Blair said, smiling brightly at Jim, who had been allowed in during the check-up to hear the verdict on Blair's condition. The almost-bouncy patient sitting on the examining table, dangling his feet, was so much like the old Blair it made Jim's heart skip a beat.

"So he can go ahead and do routine stuff now? Like driving, or--"

"Tying my shoes or going up steps?"

"Fine on the shoes. On the steps, go ahead. Just don't overdo it. As far as driving, as long as you don't get in the middle of any high-speed chases, you'll be fine."

"I'll make him ride in the back seat," Jim spoke up.

"Cute, Jim," Blair shot back, barely containing a grin.

"You've made an excellent recovery, Blair. Congratulations."

"Congratulate him--he made it happen."

"Joint project," Jim responded, blushing a little at the praise.

Now that Blair had a fairly clean bill of health to at least move around normally, Jim pondered how he might feel about going back into the precinct. With the time of the trial drawing closer, Jim had a few leads, including Keith Park, he wanted to pursue himself. And having Blair there to fill in some blanks about Watson would be more than helpful.

They had stopped at a favorite Chinese restaurant for lunch, and now that they were back in the truck--with Blair hopping up in the passenger seat under his own power, much to Jim's delight--Jim figured it was the time to broach the subject.

"How do you feel about doing a little police work, Chief?"

"At the precinct? But isn't my ID expired?"

"I could probably wangle you another one." Jim laughed a little. "There are a few leads I want to pursue on the case."

"Jim...everybody there knows what happened, right?"

"Yeah. So?"

"They know he...that I was...you know, with him?"

"If you mean do they know you were raped, yes, I suppose most of the people who know us both, know that."

"It wasn't rape. I was living with him." Blair's head hung forward, his shoulders slouched inward. Jim's heart sank to see all the earlier effervescence drain out of Blair at the mention of his ordeal.

"You're the person who told me you thought marital rape was no better--in fact worse--than if a rapist off the street committed the act. I seem to remember you having the same opinion of date rape." Jim sighed. "Just because you're a man doesn't make you a less valid victim. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah." Blair still didn't look up.

"So how is this less of a crime than any other rape? Shit, Blair, he terrorized you. The son of a bitch tore you apart! Goddammit, that's rape!" Jim slammed his hand against the steering wheel. "How many times?" he asked through nearly gritted teeth. All his attempts to stay calm with Blair about Watson were fast flying out the window.

"I-I don't know exactly," Blair stammered. Jim detected a very distinct note of fear in the hushed voice.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry, Chief." He reached over and lightly caressed the side of Blair's head. "You know I'm all wind, right? I'd never hurt you. I'm not mad at you."

"I know. I just...I'm used to...getting yelled at usually means...something else worse is coming."

"I want that fucker dead, Chief. And I want to be the one to do it. Slowly. Preferably with my bare hands. I can't help it. That's how I feel." Jim worked on getting his breathing under control, but no one had invented a deep breathing technique to combat the rage Jim felt mounting.

"He kind of hurt both of us." Blair hesitantly ventured a hand across the space between them and squeezed Jim's arm as it lay on the armrest. Jim moved his arm so he could lace his fingers with Blair's.

"You're right. He did. And nobody blames you for any part of this mess."

"I guess we could go in a while, if you want."

"Good." Jim squeezed Blair's hand and smiled widely.

The Cascade PD was as busy as any other regular day. Jim smiled a little as he watched Blair taking it all in, as if he'd never seen it before.

"Blair!" A female voice startled both of them. Serena Chang had emerged from the Forensics Lab. "Sam! Get out here!" she called back into the lab before hurrying down the hall to greet the long-absent police observer. She enveloped Blair in an enthusiastic hug, which he returned happily. "You look wonderful!"

"Thanks. I feel a lot better than I did."

"Blair?" Sam was a little more restrained in her greeting, but her smile was warm, and she soon stepped forward and gave Blair a hug of her own. "How are you?" she asked, looking right into his eyes.

"There're still some rough patches, but I'm doing a lot better," he answered honestly.

"Are you back to work now?" Serena asked.

"Not exactly. I don't know what's going to happen with that. I just came in to work with Jim for a while today."

"You'll be back full-time pretty soon." Sam smiled again. "I have a test I have to finish up in the lab before three. Take care of yourself, Blair. Stop in and see me, huh?"

"Yeah, I will. Thanks."

"I'll let you guys get going. It's wonderful seeing you again." Serena took her leave.

"Thanks, Serena," Blair called after her.

"Hey there, hairboy!" Brown emerged from the Major Crimes bullpen into the hall before they could make it all the way there. And his greeting was only the launching point for a series of handshakes, back-slaps and warm greetings. A few Major Crimes Department cops hung back, obviously not sharing the group's enthusiasm for Blair's return, but the majority put great effort into making him feel welcomed and missed.

"I'm going to get a hold of a friend of mine at the Tacoma PD. I want to see what they've got on Keith Park's death."

"Can I do anything?"

"Just sit there and look beautiful," Jim whispered as he leaned past Blair to retrieve his address book from the drawer. He was rewarded with a serious blush and a duck of the head from his partner.

"Do you really think that?" Blair whispered back.

"This isn't exactly the place for this discussion, Chief. But, yeah, I've been doing a lot of thinking in the last year." Jim smiled and started flipping through the book.

"Did you miss me a lot?" Blair asked quietly.

"Only about as much as I would've missed my right arm, pal." Jim took a moment to touch Blair's shoulder.

"That's good to know."

"While I'm doing this, I have to ask you to do something. The DA wanted this about two weeks ago, but I didn't want you dwelling on it then."

"What?"

"I need you to make a list for me. The DA already has some witnesses from the neighborhood to back us up about Watson's pattern of abuse where you're concerned--"

"Who?"

"Well, there's the guy who lives behind you in that two-story house--"

"Mr. Franklin? He's a nice old guy. I shoveled his driveway last winter."

"The two girls who live in the unit next to Watson's--"

"Maggie and Angie," Blair added.

"Why does it not surprise me that you know everybody there?"

"I was lonely. They were nice to me. I just hope they didn't ask Mrs. Halstead. She'll testify and she has a bad heart--she gets real upset about the way Vince was treating me."

"She's on the list, Chief. I believe her exact words were 'I hope the son of a bitch burns in hell'. Brown said he thought she was putting an evil eye curse on Watson," Jim said, chuckling a bit.

"She lives in unit D, right next to us--Maggie and Angie are in B, on the other side. I know Ellen heard plenty...her bedroom shared a wall with ours," Blair concluded quietly.

"Why wouldn't you want her to testify?"

"I care about her. She was very good to me, Jim. She used to let me come over and talk to her and she wasn't judgmental. She didn't push me to call the police. Sometimes she just let me come over and...and cry on her shoulder when I was hurting a lot and needed somebody. I don't want her to have a heart attack over this--and I most of all don't want Vince harassing her."

"He won't be harassing anyone, Chief. We'll nail him."

"She's an old lady, Jim. She lives alone...right next door to him. I just don't want her to get hurt."

"We've had an unofficial surveillance operation going on him since he was arrested. Off-duty guys, mostly. I'll make sure they watch him."

"How'd you manage that?"

"I've got a few friends, and I've called in a lot of old favors. Between all of us we've managed surveillance of Watson and guarding of you. The latter being my personal assignment." Jim wiggled his eyebrows and Blair laughed a little. Making Blair laugh had become something of a project with Jim, as he tried to bring out a little of his friend's old spark of energy.

"So what do I do now?"

"Make a list of people--like Mrs. Halstead, but preferably people we wouldn't have contacted yet--who can corroborate the pattern of abuse. Co-workers, friends, neighbors--hell, even a store clerk. We've got Watson over a barrel with most of the neighbors testifying for us, so his story that you were roughed up by an irate student is pretty well shot to hell. But we want to paint a vivid enough picture so that the jury feels about him the way Mrs. Halstead does."

"Got it." Blair rifled around the desk like he'd never left, finding himself a notepad and pen, and set about his task and Jim called his friend in Tacoma.

"Homicide, Yates."

"Jason? Jim Ellison."

"Hey, Jimbo, how's it goin'?"

"It's goin' okay, but I need some help on a case we've got going here. A guy we arrested for aggravated assault and aggravated sexual assault may have been involved in a death in your neck of the woods. Victim's name was Keith Park."

"I remember it. My case. Hang on and I'll call up the info." There was a pause and clicking of computer keys. "He fell down an outdoor staircase at his apartment house. He was living with some steroid junkie named Watson at the time." Another pause. "Coroner's report showed that Park had bruises over the majority of his torso area and had been violently sodomized, probably on more than one occasion. Looked like a domestic violence situation to me, but this Watson character claimed they played a lot of rough sex games, all consensual. We didn't have anything to disprove it."

"You remember I told you about the friend of mine who was working with me as a consultant to the department?"

"Yeah, Sanders or something."

"Blair Sandburg. We just got him away from Watson in the nick of time. He had a ruptured spleen from being kicked in the side three or four times for coming to see me at the hospital."

"Aw, shit. He okay?"

"He's doing great now," Jim responded, smiling at Blair who looked up in time to catch his glance, and smiled back at him. "But you can imagine that I'd like to find something to really nail this bastard to the wall."

"I can fax you the case file. It's pretty skinny. There was one old lady who lived in the apartment under theirs who wouldn't say anything about anything. Park didn't have other family in the area--he was kind of a loner. Nobody could corroborate the abuse theory, and there was no direct evidence that he didn't fall down the steps. Watson actually played the role of grief-stricken boyfriend pretty well."

"So it was ruled accidental?"

"Yep. Never set well with me to do that, but there wasn't much choice."

"Did you ever go back further into Watson's past--other relationships?"

"He had only lived in Tacoma a year or so. He was from LA originally. My boss pulled the plug on it once everything pointed to an accident."

"Okay. If you can fax me that stuff, that would be great. Thanks, Jason."

"Hey, no sweat. You still doing a lot of camping out?"

"Once in a while, yeah. I haven't done much lately, but I've been thinking about getting Blair out of the city for a weekend pretty soon." Blair looked up, surprised.

"If you guys want some company, give me a call, huh?"

"Yeah, I'll do that."

"I'll fax that stuff. Let me know how it turns out, huh?"

"It's a deal. Talk to you later."

Jim hung up and began hovering like a UFO over the fax machine while Blair continued drafting his list. With the fax transmission finally in hand, Jim returned to the desk and spread it out for the two of them to review.

"What do you suppose--Keith was getting ready to run for the hills?" Jim probed Blair.

"That would make sense. Vince flipped out when he thought I was getting back in touch with you. I mean, he didn't want me to form any worthwhile relationships, and I think that's why. If I had spent much time around anyone else, they'd have noticed something or said something--or intervened like you did."

"It would be interesting to know if Keith made any noises about leaving before he 'fell'."

"Things escalated with Vince in the last, oh, probably six weeks that I was with him. Obviously if he'd been beating me as violently as he did this last time since the beginning, I'd be dead now."

"So he got worse as time passed?"

"I started getting less passive, he got more aggressive. It was a deadly pattern, looking back on it from a distance."

"It was pretty logical that at a point, you'd be sick of taking that shit."

"I was sick of it from the outset. But you know, right at the beginning, I was still feeling lousy about being by myself, and every now and then, he'd act like he really felt lucky to have me." Blair rolled his eyes. "Sucker that I am, I felt sorry for him. He's a very physical person--he works with an aggressive sport all day. I actually cut him the slack that maybe he just couldn't handle his feelings any more effectively."

"Don't beat yourself up for being forgiving, Chief."

"Forgiving? I was a doormat. But about the first two months of the whole six we were together, he didn't hit me very often, and he was always apologetic if he did. But I started having less patience and less interest in his emotional displays after he hit me or...or after a...rough night. So he stopped putting them on and started threatening me instead, because he probably figured I was on the verge of leaving. And when he found out I'd talked to you, he really freaked out."

"This file really doesn't say a hell of a lot, does it?"

"He was about the same size I am. Guess Vince didn't want a worthy wrestling opponent in the sack."

"It does say here that he had suffered three broken ribs on one side that had knit badly," Jim summarized. "That would be pretty consistent with a beating that went untreated."

"Maybe if he wasn't in any other kind of accident or fight anyone knows of, that would be something to hang our hat on."

"Even if we proved he beat this guy up, that's still not proof that he shoved him down the stairs."

"The neighbor lady--Miss Pennington?" Blair found her statement in the file, such as it was. "Can I talk to her?"

"We could both go see her."

"She's probably afraid to talk to the cops. I thought maybe if I went to her, showed her some of the photos that were taken of my bruises in the hospital--maybe I could get her to tell us something."

"She might tell you something, Blair. If she won't get up and say it on the witness stand, it's useless." Jim slumped back in his chair. "We need a background check on Park. Maybe we can dig something up from there. And I want to know what Watson was up to in LA." Jim stood up and headed for Simon's office. The current file on Watson would be in his office, and Jim planned on checking up on Watson's past in California.

With Simon away at a conference, Jim sat at his desk for a few minutes, leafing through the file on Watson. He had gotten his degree at a private college called Briarwood, just outside of LA, and worked for about four years at a high school in LA. There was a semester gap in his work history, between leaving the high school job in January and starting work at a private college in Tacoma in August. There was no similar lapse between Tacoma and Cascade, with Watson leaving the Tacoma position in May and beginning the Rainier job in August, almost three years ago. He had held each job for almost the same length of time.

"Find anything?" Blair appeared in the doorway.

"There's about a seven-month gap between the LA and Tacoma jobs I'd like to know more about. He's held each of his jobs about the same span of time. The first job in LA lasted four years, then the 'lost months', then three years in Tacoma and almost three in Cascade."

"Actually, it's decreasing. From four years, to three, to not quite three. Sounds like a man who's losing his grip on things."

"Do you think he was losing his grip?"

"Well, you know, it was like sometimes Vince really cared about me. Like he had flashes of actually loving me. And then the next minute he'd be screaming at me or shoving me...or whatever." Blair shook his head. "It was like those flashes were the real Vince and the rest of it...was some kind of...demon inside him. Part of me stayed with him for those moments. I kept thinking that he'd never have anyone to love if somebody couldn't ride out the rough spots and get through to him. But that was a lost cause."

"How would you feel about a trip to LA?" Jim closed the folder and looked up at his partner. He smiled when he realized that Blair looked very much like he used to now, leaning up against the door of Simon's office, dressed in faded jeans, a gray t-shirt and the shockingly white, phenomenally-priced athletic shoes Jim had insisted on buying for him.

"What?"

"Huh?" Jim shook his head a little.

"What's wrong? You looked almost...zoned out."

"No, I have a partner who helps me get that under control, remember?" He loved to see Blair smile, and he was rewarded with a winner. "I was just thinking. You look good." Blair raised his eyebrows. "I mean you look like yourself again."

"Oh. That's good," Blair responded, the smile much fainter and a slight look of disappointment crossing his face.

"And you're gorgeous," Jim whispered as he walked through the door past him. Blair was stunned speechless.

"Ready to turn in, Chief? We've got an early flight tomorrow." Jim was on his way toward the stairs, finished with his final stop in the bathroom, clad in only his boxers. It was a hot summernight, but the air conditioning was managing to keep the indoor temperature pleasant.

"Yeah." Blair quickly removed his glasses and tossed aside the book he'd been reading.

"Do you want to read up there for a while to help you go to sleep?" Jim was a little unsure of how to put Blair at ease his first night sharing the bed, and he thought maybe the casual offer would help.

"Not tonight. But you wouldn't be mad if I did that sometime?"

"Course not. Come on." Jim turned out the last light downstairs, and they made their way upstairs. "Do you care which side?"

"Can I have the one by the wall?" Blair asked.

"Sure. Hop in." He waited while Blair scooted over to his side and then got in himself, dowsing the light. "Comfortable?" Jim looked over his shoulder at his bed mate, who was dressed in a tank shirt and his boxers, snuggled under the light sheet.

"Yeah, fine."

"Want to go to sleep with the music?" Jim referred to the clock radio next to the bed.

"Okay."

Jim tuned in a station playing a night time love songs show, figuring the soft music would be more soothing than the 70s station he'd had it tuned to earlier.

"How's that?"

"Nice." There was a pause. "Jim?"

"What, Chief?"

"Do you care if I sleep close to you? I won't touch you or anything if you don't want, but...I..." Blair's voice trailed off uncertainly. Jim turned over on his back and looked at the much-loved body curled up next to him.

"Come here." He encouraged Blair to snuggle against him, loving the feel of all that silky hair against his shoulder. "You shaved before bed," Jim commented.

"I was kind of hoping for an invitation," Blair confessed. "I didn't wanna leave you a big fat whisker burn. That's not too sexy."

"You don't have to wait for an invitation with me. Do what you feel, okay?" Jim lightly rubbed the shoulder where his hand rested. Blair snuggled more tightly against him. "Sure you feel up to the trip tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I'm looking forward to it."

"Good. Relax, Chief." Jim turned his head and kissed Blair's forehead. "Sweet dreams."

"That'd be nice," Blair murmured, already dozing a little. Jim felt a little stab of sympathy for his partner when he thought about the nightmares that had plagued him the first couple of weeks after he'd been rescued from Watson.

"New house rule, Sandburg. This is a no-nightmare zone." Jim smiled at the little snort of laughter.

"Great. Just when I had all the others memorized."

"There's another one."

"Swell."

"I get at least one good snuggle like this out of you every night."

"Oh, the torture," Blair groaned. Then, in a more serious tone, "I wish I had something left to give you, Jim. You deserve so much better than me."

"You don't know how...empty this place was without you in it. Since you've been home...from the first day I had you back with me...it's felt like home here for the first time since you left last year. You're my family, Blair. No matter what else happens, you've given me everything."

"It's just...I love you so much...and I can't show you."

"Sure you can. You're getting sex and love confused here, Chief."

"You're not going to want to live like a monk forever."

"Probably not. But you've only had a month to heal up. That's a far cry from forever. And there's no way I'd touch you until I knew you were 100% okay. And if you're worried about my needing intercourse every five minutes, I've been jerking off a long time now. I can cope as long as I have to."

"How long has it been?"

"I don't know. A long time. You know I was never big on one-nighters."

"Yeah, I know." Blair was quiet a minute. "It seems like forever since I made love. I don't mean what happened with Vince-"

"That was an aberration, not love."

"I wonder if I ever really did. I mean, I've known a few special women in my life, but still... You know, the stuff where the earth is supposed to move?"

"I've waited for that phenomenon, Chief. Doesn't happen."

"You were married... This is none of my business, but there must have been something between you and Carolyn."

"There was something. Looking back, I'm damned if I can figure out what it was. I guess I didn't want to be married and I know she wasn't satisfied with me in any department. It's not her fault. We just didn't click."

"Do you, um, think that we...click?"

"Yeah, Chief, I think we click just fine," Jim responded with a smile in his voice. "Just listen to the music and put all those bad memories out of your mind for a while. Remember I love you."

"I wish I could do something to show you how I feel."

"How about a big, sloppy kiss?" Jim smiled as he heard and felt Blair laugh.

"A big sloppy one, huh?"

"Yeah, one of those noisy spit-swappers."

"Geez, Jim, you're such a romantic." Blair raised his head, and Jim ducked to capture his mouth, settling into the soft, warm wetness that was there to receive him. Their tongues dueled lazily as Jim's hand slid up into the soft hair and gently cradled Blair's head. Jim felt his partner's hand sliding up his chest, slipping around his neck. He felt no stirring in Blair's groin, which was pressed against his thigh. He slowly withdrew and planted a little kiss on the end of Blair's nose.

"Get some sleep, baby. Early call in the morning."

"I won't be like this forever." There was a heavy sadness in Blair's voice.

"It's worth the time it takes to get it right, Chief. It'll all come together in time. We've got that."

"And love."

"Plenty of that."

Blair's mood seemed to lighten considerably as they boarded the jet, leaving Cascade behind. Jim wondered as he watched his friend, and hopefully soon-to-be lover, if there would ever be a way to recapture the boundless energy and the...the sparkle of the old Blair, before Watson had damaged him so badly. Blair was hardly an innocent before this doomed relationship. He'd lived all over the world in all sorts of strange settings, and had spent a very unsheltered childhood rolling with the punches of Naomi's spirited lifestyle. But there had been a wide-eyed enthusiasm for life, and a lot of idealism in Blair.

This Blair was quieter, more tense, and definitely much more submissive than the old Blair. He had always stuck close to Jim, but now he hovered nervously there, as if his worst fear was that they would somehow be separated in a crowd.

"I was going to offer a penny, but those babies have to be worth at least a buck," Blair spoke up, startling Jim out of his thoughts.

"Just letting my mind wander, I guess." Jim smiled a little.

"What are we doing first when we get here?"

"We have an appointment with the Dean of Students at Briarwood, and then one with Watson's old wrestling coach from high school, who's retired now. He seemed really anxious to meet with us."

"I wonder if he knew about that mess with Vince's girlfriend?"

"Probably."

"We don't know her name?"

"Shelly Michaels. I figure she's probably married by now, because we couldn't track her at all. She left LA after high school, and essentially disappeared. We can probably find her once we get a hold of some of her family or friends face to face."

"Why d'you suppose Vince hasn't called or...or tried anything?"

"Because he knows I'll kill him if he looks at you the wrong way."

"You can't watch me forever."

"No, that's true. Probably only for about the next fifty years." Jim relaxed back into his seat, smiling slightly. He wasn't expecting Blair's head to snap up in surprise, a pair of big blue eyes pinning him with a searching gaze.

"What're you saying?"

"Huh? What part of that didn't you get, Chief?"

"You were joking, right?" Blair asked with a little smirk.

"No. Did I sound like I was?" Jim tried not to smile. He had told Blair right along they'd take their time and work their way up to becoming lovers. But he'd never talked commitment. Until now.

"Are you...does that mean...do you want us to..." Blair fumbled over his words, and when Jim glanced at the perplexed face next to him, he couldn't resist relieving a little of the tension.

"I want us to be together forever. That's what I was trying, apparently unsuccessfully, to tell you last night. We've got plenty of time to work everything out. If that's what you want. I'm not trying to pressure you or--oof," Jim grunted as Blair's full weight hit him and frantic arms enclosed him in a hug. Needless to say, more than one of their fellow passengers turned to witness the spectacle.

"It's what I've always wanted," Blair whispered, so low that only Jim could hear him. "I love you."

"I love you too," Jim whispered back into a nearby ear, returning the pressure of the embrace. He found it very liberating not caring what the other people around them thought. And this rare little burst of enthusiasm, not to mention the magnitude of this milestone in their relationship, was too precious to let pass while worrying about the watchful eyes of strangers.

"Forever?" Blair pulled back a little as he whispered the question, searching Jim's face with moist eyes.

"Forever."

"How? I...I have so much...wrong with me...and I can't...I mean, we haven't even...what if I'm really not good at it?" Blair slumped back in his seat. Despite the slight relief of not being the in-flight floorshow any longer, Jim missed the warm bundle of Blair that had been in his arms moments ago.

"It takes two people to make love, baby," Jim leaned over and whispered to Blair. "How is anyone 'good at' being a rape victim? You can't judge anything by what happened with Watson. Besides, you're assuming the most important thing to me is nailing you to the mattress. The most important thing to me is you. And whatever you can do is fine by me."

"What if I can't ever let you do that to me?" Blair murmured, audible only to a Sentinel. His face was flushed, his eyes lowered to his lap again. Jim turned fully sideways in his seat, effectively blocking the view of the inordinately interested woman across the aisle. Blair reached up quickly and brushed away a tear.

"Then we'll enjoy each other in all the ways we can and quit worrying about what we can't do. Okay?"

"It isn't fair to you."

"This whole mess with Watson wasn't fair, least of all to you. But the important thing for you to remember is that anything with you means more to me than everything with someone else. If that actually came out making any sense," Jim said, grimacing as he analyzed his own statement.

"It said it all," Blair responded, looking up finally, smiling a little. "I just want you to be sure that it's not...you know...pity and not love."

"Blair, I pity all the starving people in the world, and I pity crime victims...I pity a lot of people. That doesn't mean I want to spend my life with all of them. I know the difference. When we were kissing last night, it had nothing to do with pity."

"But nothing happened."

"Because you're always trying to gear yourself up for something. You've been through a horrible ordeal, Chief. Just relax and let it happen at its own pace. It will."

"I'm sorry I jumped you a few minutes ago," Blair apologized, smiling a little sheepishly.

"I'm not. Feel free to jump me anytime."

Jim figured he should be feeling nervous or jittery. He had just more or less "married" Blair on the plane, but all it made him feel was peaceful. His Blair was here forever, for better or for worse. And Jim had every confidence he could love the shattered spirit back to wholeness, given enough time. Watson had done a lot of emotional and psychological damage along with the physical injuries. While Blair was essentially healed from the surgery and Watson's final assault, he had a long way to go yet before he was his old self again. If indeed, he ever was.

Their hotel room boasted two king-sized beds, and in an unspoken agreement, they loaded one of them with their luggage. After freshening up a little, they ate lunch in the hotel dining room and then headed for the Briarwood campus to meet with the Dean.

Dean Margaret Cavanaugh was a petite woman with a tall personality. From her dark business suit to her upswept gray hair and small glasses riding the bridge of her nose as she reviewed Watson's file, hers was an image of authority.

"Gentlemen, you realize that without a subpoena, I can't release confidential information from Mr. Watson's file," she began. Jim calmly removed a folded document from the pocket of the beige sportcoat he'd thrown on over his t-shirt and cotton slacks for their visit.

"This is a court order for the release of any and all information you have on Vincent Watson. Not only is he about to go on trial for aggravated assault and aggravated sexual assault, but we have reason to believe this may be only one incident in a pattern of violence, including a possible homicide." Jim handed her the paper, and she reviewed it carefully. Jim glanced over at Blair, his face somewhat unreadable as he sat there with his hair neatly pulled back, dressed in a cornflower blue shirt and tan cotton slacks.

"Well, in that case, this should contain all the information you need." She handed Jim two thick file folders. "One is my personal file on Mr. Watson, and the other is the Registrar's file."

"What about the campus police?" Jim asked.

"I receive a copy of all incident reports and they're included in my file. However, you may wish to stop by the Campus Security Office on your way out."

"All this paperwork is very valuable, Dean Cavanaugh. What I really need from you, though, is any personal impression you may have had of Vincent Watson."

"Mr. Watson was an adequate student, and an excellent athlete."

"But...?" Blair spoke up, surprising Jim.

"I beg your pardon?" Dean Cavanaugh diverted her eyes to Blair.

"That statement had a very definite unspoken 'but' on the end of it."

"I've provided you with the information required of me by law. You must appreciate that I am not in a position to make any unfounded libelous statements against a former student."

"You might find these of interest." Blair pulled out a few photographs from his pocket and handed them to her. Jim wrinkled his brow in confusion, but watched as the color seemed to drain out of the woman's face. "Those are photos taken by a neighbor of mine after Vince Watson beat me up the first time. I got that beating because I went to the doctor for the pain and bleeding from the first time he sodomized me."

"Dear God," she muttered. After looking at the photos with one hand pressed over her mouth, she started to hand them back to Blair, but Jim intercepted them.

"You didn't mention these before, Chief," he said, angry that Blair had been sitting on this evidence. His anger at Blair dissolved and configured itself into rage against Watson when he glanced down at the photos. Blair's face was barely recognizable under the bruising and swelling that completely closed one eye and partially closed the other. His mouth was distorted and his face generally swollen. His back, stomach and chest were bizarre mosaics of blue and purple.

"Dean Cavanaugh, I know how tenuous your position is, because I work in a university environment. You've provided us with Watson's files, and you're covered for that. I know you're worried about lawsuits. But Vince Watson is dangerous. Part of what happened to me is my own fault because I let him sweet talk me and apologize to me after he did that to me, and because he had lucid moments. It's in those lucid moments that he lures you in, and once you're there, you're in his own private little hell. And every time you try to get out, he snares you again with another sweet-voiced apology. And when that doesn't work anymore, he figures out what's most precious to you and then he threatens you with it so you stay out of fear. It's only because of an accidental sequence of events that I was rescued before he killed me. I barely made it to the hospital to undergo surgery for a ruptured spleen. I'm begging you for help here. This man has managed to commit...atrocities...and not leave a paper trail. Please, if you know anything...he's going on trial for what he did to me in a couple of weeks. Please help us put him away for what he's done to God knows how many other people." Blair seemed impassioned by his speech, moreso than Jim had seen him in weeks.

Margaret Cavanaugh leaned back in her impressive burgundy leather desk chair, behind her equally impressive mahogany desk, and removed the glasses from the bridge of her nose, letting them drop to hang from the fine silver cord that suspended them around her neck.

"While Mr. Watson was a student here, there was a young man named Daren Clayton with whom he shared an apartment for the majority of his senior year. I think he might be able to help you now."

"Did something happen with this Clayton that you know of?"

"Mr. Clayton was found severely beaten and near death in the parking lot behind the apartment complex where they lived. When he was able to speak, he affirmed Mr. Watson's speculation that he must have been mugged."

"But you think that--"

"I'm not sharing an opinion, gentlemen. I am merely referring you to a former acquaintance of Mr. Watson's who may be able to give you more information about his lifestyle."

"Thank you," Blair spoke up. "Do you know where we can find him?"

"He's living in Los Angeles, I believe. The last I heard, he had a job with a company called Cybertech. He was very gifted with computers."

"Thank you very much, Dean Cavanaugh. These files will be returned to you as soon as possible."

"Thank you." She rose as they did, and extended her hand first to Blair. "I hope things go well with the trial."

"Thanks. So do I."

During the ride back into the city, both men had been silent. Blair finally spoke up, breaking the silence.

"I'm sorry I didn't show you those pictures before."

"Those are a fairly significant part of the case, Chief. I guess I'm a little pissed off that you kept those under your hat."

"Mrs. Halstead took those. I didn't want her to be involved anymore--"

"Dammit, Blair, she's involved anyway! She sang like a canary the first time we asked her a single question."

"I said I was sorry," Blair responded quietly. Jim reached across to lay a gentle hand on the side of Blair's face, but halted when he saw the other automatically flinch away from the approaching hand.

"Blair, did you think I was going to hit you?" Jim had all he could do to watch the traffic and steal glances at Blair at the same time. "Answer me, baby," he prodded, his tone gentle.

"I know it's stupid and you wouldn't do that, but whenever Vince got really pissed at me and yelled at me...he usually at least swatted me if not...worse." Blair drew in a shaky breath. "Old habits die hard," he concluded, forcing a slight smile.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to scare you." Jim scooped up Blair's hand in his and kissed the back of it.

"I think I like 'sweetheart' even better than 'Chief'." Blair was smiling when Jim stole a glance at him this time.

"You do, huh? I kind of worried after I said it that you wouldn't like it. It just...came out." Jim paused, and they rode in silence a while longer, just holding hands. "What made you have her take those photos?"

"I thought in case...something happened to me, someone else should know. There should be some proof. I kept them hidden inside one of my diskette carriers. Vince was never too interested in the computer, so he would never think to go through my disks for any reason. He'd'a probably killed me if he'd found those. But I wanted them somewhere where Mrs. Halstead wouldn't have to be the one to come forward with them, somewhere Vince wouldn't find them, but somewhere the cops would...or maybe you would, if you ever came for any of my stuff. I don't know why I thought you would when we weren't even living together or keeping in touch. I guess I hoped...if something happened, all my things wouldn't just be tossed in a dumpster somewhere."

"You were afraid he was going to kill you, weren't you? Right from the start?"

"I've heard of domestic violence escalating, and I've heard of people killing someone in a rage even when they didn't mean to. Given Vince's size and his training, I figured it was possible."

"I wish you had just...said something that day in the hospital. Right then, I wanted to grab you and hold you and not let you walk out that door again." Jim shook his head. "Dammit! I should have just done that. To hell with everything else and all the waiting and the game-playing."

"You didn't have any way of knowing that I wanted to be with you. Just because I still cared if you were dead wouldn't necessarily mean that I was ready to move back in with you."

"True. But I knew you weren't doing well. I just didn't know why."

"It's weird. I've known people who were victims of domestic violence before. I've talked to them. I was an advisor to a girl one time who always had strange-looking bruises and unexplained absences from classes. I knew her boyfriend was beating her up. I got her to finally open up and talk to me. All I could do was keep telling her to report it, get away from him. I offered to help her, if she didn't have anyone else to turn to. But she had all these reasons why she didn't want to leave...and I was so critical of her."

"For not leaving?"

"Yeah. I always thought it was inexplicable that people would let someone beat them, sexually abuse them--I'm not talking about kids now, because they don't have the same choices. But adults. I always had this little part of me that didn't feel as much sympathy for people who endured long-term abuse because I felt like they were letting it happen. And then I turn around and do the same thing."

"There were a lot of things keeping you there, Chief--just like there are things keeping people in those hellish relationships everyday all over the world. I see that now." Jim sighed. "You know, I've seen all kinds of bizarre situations while I've been on the force. People who were perfectly capable of walking away, but didn't. I've seen women disfigured by repeated beatings and still stay."

"Maybe that's why it seems like he shouldn't have been able to keep me there. I'm a man. At least, I used to feel like one before--"

"Don't go there, Chief. What he did to you doesn't make you less of a man."

"Sure it does. He beat up on me, fucked me 'til I bled anytime he felt like it, and what did I do? Rolled over and stuck my ass up in the air whenever he told me to." Blair pulled his hand away from Jim's. "I feel like such a useless piece of shit! I should've stopped him. I should have walked out. Why didn't I? Why did I let him do that to me? Over and over again...why?" Blair's voice was strained with anger and tears.

"Because you loved me."

"Run that one by me again?"

"You didn't intend to stay with him at one point. You're forgiving, and you're loyal, so you let him talk his way out of the first few times, but then you were going to walk out until he threatened to mess up my career, or come after me. And you stayed with him and endured the unthinkable things he did to you so I could keep living my life without any kind of scandal or gossip he might generate. You want to talk about self-recriminations here, Chief, I've run myself through those paces over and over again. Do you know how it feels to know that he forced himself on you several times using threats against me to get you to roll over and take it?" Jim fought tears himself, wondering if he had ever done anything in his career on the force as dangerous as trying to drive through LA traffic, tread through heavy emotional territory, and cry at the same time. "Dammit, Blair, I don't know if I'd've been strong enough to endure that for you. Yeah, to save your life, I'd give my own in a heartbeat. But just to keep you from having a nasty scandal? Quite frankly, sweetheart, your strength, and the depth of your love for me amazes the hell out of me."

"You're just trying to make me feel better. Like I'm not a sissy."

"I don't have it in me to tell a lot of pretty lies, Sandburg. You know that better than anyone else. If I don't mean it, I don't say it." Jim found the hand that had escaped before and clutched it tightly. "You handed Watson your body as hush money to keep him away from me. That's not an act of weakness. That's an act of love that...defies words."

Blair looked over at Jim for a moment before the floodgates opened, and he started to sob openly, his free hand over his face. Jim kept a tight hold on Blair's hand while he watched for a safe place to pull off the road. Spotting the parking lot of a vacant shopping mall, he made his way across the necessary lanes and drove around the back of the empty buildings. Having some privacy now, he unfastened Blair's seatbelt and maneuvered his lover somewhat awkwardly toward him until Blair's arms were wrapped tightly around his neck as Jim held him.

"Relax and let it all out, baby. Everything's going to be okay. I'm right here."

"I wanted to...come home...so badly."

"Oh, sweetheart, I know. I wanted you home too. We're kind of pathetic, aren't we?" he asked, smiling a little as he rubbed Blair's back soothingly. He felt a little laugh in the midst of the wracking sobs.

"I'm so...glad...you still...want me...even all...messed up."

"Shhh. You're not messed up. You're perfect. You always were."

"I was...messy...and I left...the bathroom stinky," Blair choked out.

"Okay, so you weren't perfect, but close." Jim smiled in relief at Blair's attempt at levity. "I hated my life without you in it," Jim whispered into the nearest ear, then kissed it. "Everything was neat and orderly...and so fucking empty," he concluded, finding himself crying with Blair now. "I love you so much, baby. I'm so glad you're here with me."

"I love you too." Blair worked hard at getting his voice back. "Jim, do you think tonight...when we get back to the hotel...we could...try something?"

"I don't know, Chief. That might fall into the strenuous activity category, and I don't want you hurting anymore. Maybe we should wait awhile."

"I didn't mean anything acrobatic." Blair pulled back enough to look at Jim. "Maybe we could just...touch each other...maybe, um, make each other feel good?"

"That sounds like a beautiful idea." Jim smiled a little as he held Blair's face gently in his hands and kissed away the tears.

"Just one problem."

"What?"

"It's gonna be real hard keeping our minds on interviewing that Clayton guy now."

Both men shared a laugh at that very true statement, and Blair carefully moved back to his own seat. Jim started the engine, and they made their way to the corporate offices of Cybertech.

Cybertech, Incorporated was housed in a one-floor brick office complex with a multitude of windows and carefully manicured landscaping.

Jim pulled into a parking spot and looked over at Blair, who had done his best to put himself back together after his crying jag. His eyes were still a bit puffy, but only someone who knew him would have been readily able to tell he'd been crying.

As they approached the semi-circular reception desk, the attractive young woman behind it smiled pleasantly. In the back of his mind somewhere, it occurred to Jim that her long blonde hair, perfect features and flawless figure did nothing more for him than register as information. All his emotions, as well as his libido, seemed to be wrapped around one of Blair's lovable little fingers.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Yes. We'd like to see Daren Clayton." Jim flashed his badge, not bothering to let her see that his ID was from the Cascade PD instead of the LAPD.

"One moment, please." She smiled a bit uneasily and picked up her phone, dialing a three-number extension. "Mr. Clayton? There are a couple of gentlemen here from the police. Are you available to talk with them?" She listened to the response, and then nodded. "All right. Thank you." She hung up and rose from her chair. "Mr. Clayton said he could see you now. If you'll follow me please."

"Thank you," Jim responded, the two men falling into step behind her. She tapped on a door at the end of a long, wide hall containing numerous offices. The hum of printers and the clicking of computer keyboards seemed to invade Jim's sensitive hearing from all sides. He diverted his focus to the voice of the receptionist as she invited them to enter the office marked "Vice President, Design".

"Good afternoon," the man behind the desk greeted, not diverting his face from his monitor. "I'm just finishing something up here..." he clicked a couple more items with his mouse, and then typed something in before turning around to face them. The way he reached down on either side to turn toward them in his chair made it obvious he was in a wheelchair, not a desk chair. "How can I help you?" He smiled pleasantly, but Jim noticed something a little...off about his face. And then he remembered the beating the man had supposedly suffered many years earlier and wondered if that could have been the cause.

"My name is Jim Ellison, this is my partner, Blair Sandburg. We're with the police department in Cascade, Washington. We're investigating a case against Vincent Watson." Jim watched the other's face as the name registered.

"Close the door, huh?" Clayton requested. Jim complied. "How'd you find me?" The man removed his wire-framed glasses and set them on the desk. He looked to be about the same size as Blair, with short brown hair and slightly bloodshot brown eyes.

"Your name came up when we were interviewing another witness," Jim replied.

"I see." Clayton took a drink of his coffee. "I'm sorry. Please, sit down. Would either of you like coffee?" Both men waved off the offer with slight smiles, taking the two chairs across from the desk. "I didn't think I'd ever have to talk about that son of a bitch again."

"I understand you were mugged and badly beaten while you were living with Watson."

"What's he accused of?"

"See for yourself." Blair pulled out the photos again and handed them to Clayton.

"One thing about history. It sure as hell repeats itself. So you were with Vince a while, huh? Isn't he a piece of work? That fucker put me in this chair."

"He gave you the beating, not muggers?" Jim prodded.

"You're quick. No wonder you made detective." Clayton shook his head. "I'm sorry again. This isn't exactly a pleasant subject for me. I've spent the last ten years trying to rebuild some sort of a life after what he did to me."

"Who were you staying for?" Blair asked. Jim watched with great interest as the question registered with Clayton, who took a deep breath before answering.

"My father. He was in very poor health at the time, had heart problems. If he'd known I was gay, it would've killed him. He probably suspected it somewhat, because he was a pretty shrewd old guy, but hearing it would've been very hard on him. Vince started out just threatening to tell him what 'I really was' if I left. Then it escalated to insinuations that my father would have 'an accident' or 'slip and fall like so many old folks do' if I left or tried to press charges. So when I'd had enough, I told him I'd leave quietly, not press any charges. That was when he beat the shit out of me. I passed out, but I know he kept going. I came to in the hospital, and Vince was hovering around like the tortured lover, wringing his hands for my recovery. He coached me on what I better say if I wanted to keep my old man alive. Waking up partially paralyzed and needing major reconstructive surgery on my face, I was in no shape to look out for him or to cross Vince."

"What kept you from coming forward later?"

"By the time my father died, about three years later, and I was in a position to go after him with nothing to lose, the cops weren't listening. In the meantime, I met a terrific guy and we've been together almost five years now. I didn't want him exposed to Vince, and since he seemed to be gone permanently, the last thing I wanted to do was lure him back here by starting trouble."

"Would you testify?" Jim asked.

"No. I'm sorry, but he's already taken too much from me. I won't let him have anything more."

"What if we could put him away for a long time? We're building this case, one atrocity at a time. I don't think the two of you were his only victims."

"Look, Detective, this may seem harsh and unfeeling, but these photos don't shock me." He tossed them on the desk in Blair's direction. "I lived that--for almost two years. I'm sorry he beat up on your friend here, and I'm really sorry about all the other lousy things the son of a bitch has probably done since he left me. But I won't put my life, or my loved ones' lives, on the line for this."

"Don't you want justice for what he did to you? What he took away?" Jim made a last ditch effort.

"Sure. But at what cost? You know, it's bizarre, but it was almost worth ending up like this to get rid of him. He didn't want me when I was released from the hospital. I couldn't put on a show in the sack for him anymore. You know how that goes," he said, looking at Blair, who kept his eyes focused on his twined fingers in his lap.

"Is there any insight into his personality or his behavior that you could give us--off the record?"

"He's a crazy bastard who gets off on power and other people's pain. He didn't get off unless you were screaming--from pain, not pleasure--let's get that straight, and he usually got really hot after he flexed his muscles a little. He was horniest if he'd just put me in my place for something. It was all about dominance."

"If we find that we're building a murder case here, would you change your mind about testifying?"

"Murder?"

"We have reason to believe he may have been involved in the death of another man he lived with after he left you. If that's the case, any testimony against him will only strengthen our case to get him not only convicted, but the maximum sentence. Look, all I'm asking is that you not shut the door on this entirely."

"If you get your murder case going, give me a call." He reached in his desk drawer and produced a business card. "But please, whatever happens, don't bring my name into it with Vince unless I've agreed to testify."

"Understood. Thank you for your time, Mr. Clayton."

"Good luck," he responded, shaking hands with Jim. As he reached over and shook hands with Blair, he smiled a little. "Look, man, I'm sorry you got mixed up with him. If you want to talk about it sometime, use my card there and give me a call. I've been where you were."

"Thanks. I'll keep it in mind." Blair forced a slight smile and gathered up his photos, following Jim out of the office.

Jim started up the rented car and sighed loudly. The meeting had been somewhat of a success, but he still wasn't walking out with a confirmed witness.

"Let's call it a day, Chief. It's almost dinner time. We can grab a bite to eat and then get some rest. It's been a long day."

"Sounds good to me," Blair agreed, as Jim pulled out into the rush hour traffic.

"Do you think you'll ever call him?" Jim asked.

"Who, Clayton?" Blair was thoughtful a moment. "No, probably not. I have my own nightmares. I don't need his too."

"If you ever feel that you'd like to talk to someone...you know, for counseling--I understand. I wouldn't think there was anything wrong with that."

"I don't know how I feel about that. I've gone to counselors and shrinks before, and sometimes it was helpful. But there are so many...unpleasant things to remember about this... I don't know if I want to have to tell a counselor every degrading thing he ever did to me so I can 'work through it'."

"Anytime you need to talk to me...I know I get angry, but it's never at you, and I don't want you to censor what you tell me for that reason. I want to be there for you."

"You are. God, I dread that trial. Getting up on a witness stand and telling all the...details...all the...sexual stuff."

"It'll be tough, sweetheart. I'm not going to tell you a lot of pretty lies about it. But you can do it, because you know that son of a bitch is going behind bars for it."

"He'll get out eventually. And I'll tell you something else that makes me nervous--he's so damned quiet now."

"We have a restraining order to keep him away from you, and he probably doesn't want to mess up his chances of either getting off altogether or getting off with a lesser sentence. If he comes back after you, his ass is ours."

"You don't know Vince. He isn't playing by the rules. If he isn't making a direct hit, he's up to something."

"He's not larger than life, baby. I know that's how it looks, but he isn't."

"Am I going to have to testify to details? I mean, about the...about when he...when he made me have sex with him? Do I have to say things on the stand about all the moves we each made and what he made me do?" Jim knew Blair was watching him as he took a deep breath and tried to phrase his answer as gently a possible.

"The sexual assault is part of the charges, Chief. It's going to have to get detailed. I wish I could do something to spare you that." Jim reached over and stroked Blair's cheek with the backs of his fingers. Blair caught his hand and squeezed it.

"What if I can't do it?" Blair's question froze Jim's respiration.

"You aren't seriously thinking of not testifying against him?"

"No, no, not at all. But what if I get up there and I can't...? His lawyer is going to try to trick me, make it sound like I wanted it or asked for it... What if I mess everything up?"

"Blair, just tell the truth. Look, next week, you know the DA wants to meet with you and go over your testimony."

"Aw, man. That's just great. I get to sit in a conference room and describe how me made me get on my knees and... It's the same thing as him raping me all over again!" Blair brought his fist down on the car door's armrest. "I don't know if I can do it."

"We can't nail him for squat without you, Chief. You know that. If there was some way I could change this..." Jim shrugged helplessly. "Sorry, baby. I need my hand back." Jim was navigating through the heaviest of the 5:00 traffic.

"Everybody's going to know...they're going to think you're gay by association."

"So let 'em. I really don't give a shit at this point, Chief. While you were suffering with Vince, I had my nice, neat, simple life, and it sucked."

"So does unemployment."

"They repealed the anti-sodomy laws in Washington State in the 70s. There isn't a hell of a lot they can do about it."

"You know how popular gay cops are."

"None of that matters to me anymore."

"You don't mean that. Jim, you love being a cop. And you're so damn good at it. It isn't fair for this to ruin your life."

"You walking out the door last year ruined my life. If I hadn't been such an uptight son of a bitch, we'd have spent the last year together and you wouldn't have ever met that fucking idiot who did this to you."

"It isn't your fault. You didn't tell me to move out. You sure as hell didn't tell me to go find a guy who looked like you so I could live some sort of sick fantasy. You know, I'm not totally innocent in this whole mess. I sought Vince out because he reminded me of you. I used him to fill a void. I never really loved him. When you do something like that, you have to expect that malignant karma to come back and smack you in the face."

"You didn't deserve this, Blair."

"No, maybe not, but just like I was weak and behaved like an idiot and hooked up with Vince...and then even let him talk his way out of abusing me by telling me that I was so hot and sexy that he couldn't hold back when we had sex or crying in my lap after he beat me up and telling me it was because he was afraid he was losing me... Just like I was too swayed by my emotions at first, before it was fear, you were tangled up with your emotions and your doubts and your uncertainties when I suddenly up and announce I want to start bouncing the bed with you."

"Maybe we both need to stop feeling guilty about any of this and figure it was just a horrible, tragic mess."

"I think that's very true."

"About this testimony thing...I promise you, if it gets too bad, and the prosecutor doesn't know when to stand up and object and get you out of it, I'll put a stop to it, one way or another. I won't let you twist in the wind. I give you my word, Chief."

"I trust you." Blair forced a little smile.

Dinner was steak, salad and wine in the hotel dining room. Jim still delighted in watching Blair eat like he used to, remembering only too well the gaunt-faced weakling he'd rescued from Watson's tyranny. He listened with interest to the prattling on Blair was famous for, as he talked about a class he'd taught the previous semester to a group of gifted grade school children as part of a special program the university had inaugurated in the community. Jim smiled as he pictured his Blair in the middle of all those little prodigies, challenging their nimble minds with his own magical way of weaving tales of obscure cultures in faraway places.

"Jim? You still with me?" Blair asked, smiling a little.

"Always. I was just admiring the view." Jim took a sip of his wine and was rewarded with a little blush from Blair, who looked down at his partially eaten steak with sudden interest. "I never get sick of looking at you."

"Come on, Jim, you're embarrassing me here, man."

"Why? Because I'm flattering you a little?" Jim startled both Blair and himself by reaching across the table and taking a hold of Blair's hand. "I think you're beautiful, so get used to being stared at by a guy with an incredibly sappy look on his face. I think it's called love."

"Somebody might see--"

"Let 'em. What do you say we pay the bill and go upstairs for a little privacy?"

"Sounds great." Blair smiled as Jim squeezed his hand briefly and released it, motioning to the waiter.

The hotel room was cool and comfortable, the steady hum of the air conditioner a reassuring sound against the heat and humidity of the summer weather outside. Blair crouched by the night table and tuned the radio there. Jim heard the sounds of something soft and romantic drifting out of the little speaker.

"Dance with me?" Jim asked softly, holding out both hands. Blair smiled and moved into Jim's arms without hesitation, wrapping his arms around Jim's middle, burying his face against a strong shoulder. Jim's arms came around his lover, one hand tangling in the soft mane of curls. They swayed slowly to the music in the dimly lit room.

Blair slowly raised his head and moved in Jim's arms so he was in a position to unbutton the first two fastened buttons of Jim's shirt. He planted a little kiss on the exposed area, and continued his work until the waistband of Jim's pants stopped him. The hot mouth descended again on sensitive flesh, kissing and nipping its way across the smooth planes of muscle, finally pausing to excite a nipple to hardness. He dragged his tongue in a line to its mate, and treated it to the same sweet torture.

Jim moaned low in his throat. As much as he wanted to grab hold of Blair and devour him in a fit of passion, he held back and let his lover set the pace. Only Blair would ultimately know how much or how little he could face doing after all he'd been through.

Jim ventured to gently raise Blair's face up and capture his mouth in a prolonged kiss. He carefully opened the other's shirt, running his hand over the soft mat of hair there. His thumb found a nipple and rolled it gently until he could feel Blair gasping for air. He released the hostage lips and moved down Blair's jaw to his throat, leaving a trail of hot little kisses. He encircled Blair in his arms and pulled them together, chest to chest.

They rolled on the mattress so Blair Hearts pounding as one, hands searching and groping, they stumbled back to the bed, falling together on the mattress without breaking their kiss. Blair was not in the least passive, pushing Jim's shirt off his shoulders and tugging determinedly at it until it came loose from his pants and was discarded on the floor. lay on top of his larger lover, making it easier to dispense with his shirt as well.

"I wanna feel all of you," Blair panted against Jim's mouth before they launched another passionate duel of tongues.

"Blair, sweetheart, slow down a minute." Jim took the beloved face in his hands. "Are you okay with this?"

"I want us skin to skin. Nothing in between," Blair replied, breathlessly.

"You say stop anytime you need to, baby. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it," Blair answered vacantly, already busy with Jim's zipper. Moments later, he had stripped the larger man with surprising efficiency. Jim tried not to think about where Blair might have learned his skills, and turned his attention to opening the front of Blair's increasingly tight pants. He slid them down the strong legs, delighted when they finally hit the floor.

He hesitated as he slid his hands partway under the waistband of Blair's boxers. He could feel his lover's insistent arousal pressing against him, and he knew how his own body was screaming for some kind of release and completion. Hoping Blair was truly ready to go this far, he slowly eased the underwear over the curved buttocks and down Blair's legs until Blair helped out by kicking them off.

"I love you," Jim whispered in a nearby ear as he slowed things down long enough to just hold Blair close. He felt the other's arms go around him then and hang on tightly. "It's all about love, sweetheart. Don't be afraid." Jim didn't know if Blair needed, or even wanted, to hear that, but it made him feel better to say it. He rolled them on their sides and pulled back a little to look at Blair. A smile was partnered with tears.

"So this is making love, huh?" he asked, stroking his hand back and forth over the strong chest in front of him. "I don't think I ever did that before. God, I want you so bad." Blair thrust against Jim, trapping their erections between them. Loving the intensity of the friction, Jim added his own movements to their dance, pulling Blair tightly against him, sheltered in a circle of powerful arms.

Neither could last long. Blair came first, with a shout of Jim's name, and his lover was only moments behind him. Jim flopped on his back and pulled Blair along so the smaller man was nestled in the crook of his arm, head pillowed on Jim's shoulder. Blair flopped a leg over Jim's and pulled himself up for a lazy kiss.

"That was...beautiful," Blair whispered, as if trying not to shatter the magic with any loud vocalizations.

"That's love. And it should always feel beautiful." He stroked Blair's back gently. "Do you feel okay? Is your incision all right?"

"It's a little tingly, but it's okay." Both men were quiet a few minutes, their heartbeats slowing to normal again. "I wish the first time had been with you."

"The first time was with me, baby. He never made love to you." Jim reached over and turned up the radio. "I love this song. It's us." The light voices of the Bee Gees came out of the little radio, singing "How Deep Is Your Love?"

//I see your eyes in the morning sun  
I feel you touch me in the pouring rain  
And the moment that you wander far from me  
I wan to feel you in my arms again  
And you come to me on a summer breeze,  
Keep me warm in your love  
Then you softly leave,  
And it's me you need to show,  
How deep is your love?  
I really need to learn,  
'Cause we're livin' in a world of fools,  
Breaking us down,  
When they all should let us be,  
We belong to you and me.

I believe in you  
You know the door to my very soul,  
You're the light in my deepest, darkest hour,  
You're my savior when I fall,  
And you may not think I care for you,  
When you know deep inside that I really do,  
And it's me you need to show  
How deep is your love?  
'Cause we're livin' in a world of fools  
Breaking us down,  
When they all should let us be,  
We belong to you and me...//

"I'm going to spend the rest of our lives showing you how deep it is, Blair. That's a promise." Jim drew Blair's face up for a prolonged kiss.

"I used to dream about what it might be like for us, like this," Blair whispered, so softly that only Jim would have been able to hear him. "Sometimes I'd lie there, and I'd be hurting so much, and I'd try to imagine what it would have been like if it had been you taking me and not him. What it would be like to have you hold me afterwards and tell me you loved me... Jim, not one of those fantasies were this perfect."

"Those were dreams. This is reality. You can't make love with a fantasy. Believe me I tried."

"You fantasized about me?" Blair raised up on one elbow to look down at Jim. He wondered for a moment why Jim chuckled a little until he felt him reach up and pull the hair band the rest of the way out of the disheveled mop on his head.

"Guess I was so excited to get your pants off that I left you looking like a shih tzu on a bad hair day." Jim smiled as Blair collapsed back on the bed with laughter, holding his side while he did. "Take it easy there, Chief. We've put your body through enough hoops for one night."

"You really know how to blow a moment, man," Blair gasped, getting his breath back "But I still want an answer to my question."

"I figured you would, but the hair thing bought me some time." Jim smiled over at Blair, who scooted back into his arms and lay his head on Jim's shoulder. "For the first couple of months after you left, I just missed you. I missed the friend I had, and that's when I was calling and leaving all those messages for you. I wanted us to at least keep in touch. But as time passed, I started thinking more about you. The way you looked, the way you smelled, the way it felt to touch you or even on the rare occasions I held you--the way you felt so perfect in my arms. And the thoughts kind of strayed to what might have happened...if I hadn't been such a hard-ass."

"Oh, I don't know. It doesn't feel all that hard to me," Blair replied, as Jim started at the feeling of a questing hand exploring his right buttock.

"Have a little mercy here, sweetheart. The general's about ready to salute again if you don't knock it off."

"'The general'? Oh, man, this is priceless. He's got a military title," Blair giggled gently grasping the named member and pumping slowly.

"Oh, baby, that's good," Jim growled, arching into the strokes, which became more rapid and insistent as they brought Jim to hardness. Then the had was withdrawn, and Jim was startled to feel himself deserted by Blair's warmth. He was even more surprised to see Blair positioning himself on all fours on the bed next to him, finally lowering his head so he was in the most submissive position possible. "What are you doing?" Jim pulled himself up in a sitting position, trying to ignore the infamous "general", who was at full attention.

"Aren't you ready to fuck me now?" Blair asked quietly, with a resignation in his voice that saddened Jim. It was as if he were somehow "programmed" to offer himself whether he felt like it or not.

"You look uncomfortable as hell there, baby. Your side hurts, doesn't it?" Jim reached over and pulled back some of Blair's hair for a better look at his face. He didn't look happy. "Come on," Jim took a gentle hold of his sides, "straighten out, sweetheart. I can feel your pulse going all over the place and I know you're hurting." Blair complied, lying there on his stomach with his face buried in the pillow.

"You're hard."

"So? Your hand was doing just fine, Chief." Jim scooted over close to his lover's prone form, laying a hand on his back and rubbing slowly. "That's the position he always made you get into, isn't it?" A little nod. "Not very comfortable, is it?" This time a shake of the head. "How about if we never use that one when we decide--together--to make love that way?" A nod again. "I don't want you on your knees for anybody ever again, Blair. Least of all me." Jim waited while that registered, and with a little sob, Blair moved into his arms and began to cry against his chest.

"I messed it all up. I'm sorry...I didn't mean..to mess it up." There was almost fear in the shaking voice.

"You didn't mess up anything, baby. You offered yourself to me, and I know how scary that is for you right now. That's not messing up."

"Didn't you...want me that way?"

"Not when you're tired and your side hurts and you're not really ready. I want you every way I can have you, but only when it makes you feel as good as it makes me feel. Oh, Blair, I love you so much," Jim sighed. "I wish I could take away all the ugly things in your memories. I want you to know you have the right to say no to me, to not offer me anything you don't want to give...to yell at me when you're mad and to refuse to do something I want you to do and you can miss every occasion I ever ask you to show up for and you can have twelve laptops and work on them 24 hours a day if it makes you happy and I'll never hit you. I won't push you or grab you or shake you or slap you and least of all, I won't punish you in bed for being the wonderful, exasperating, independent thinker you really are." The sobs came harder, and Jim tightened his hold. "I'm never going to use you to get off, sweetheart. When I'm inside of you, it'll be because we both wanted it and because we're in love. Not because I've got a hard-on."

"Is the...general...still saluting?" a watery voice asked.

"He's at ease. It's lights-out time in the barracks." Jim reached up and turned off the bedside lamp. "Come on. Stand up with me long enough to turn the bed back." Jim got them on their feet and whisked back the covers. Within moments, they were tucked cozily together, nested in the bedclothes.

"Love you," Blair murmured, the wracking sobs having drained the last of his energy as he dozed off in Jim's arms.

"Love you too, baby. Sweet dreams. I'm right here."

"Gotta be sweet dreams then," Blair whispered, a little smile in his voice.

Continued in part three.  
Due to the length of this story, it's been split into four parts for easier loading.  
After All

by Candy Apple  
Author's webpage: http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/3281

Continued from part two.

After All - part three  
By Candy Apple

The first appointment on the morning's schedule was a visit to Watson's high school principal, and also his wrestling coach. As they ate breakfast sandwiches and orange juice at a nearby drive-thru, both men were hopeful for new leads.

"I'm hoping someone can help us trace the girlfriend," Jim commented, chewing on his sandwich.

"What makes you think she'll want to come forward now even if we do find her? You can see how excited Clayton was to lock horns with Vince again."

"I guess I'm hoping someone will do it for the greater good involved here."

"These people have rebuilt their lives--Vince-free. They aren't going to want to dig it up again."

"Speaking of digging things up again, I talked to Yates this morning about the possibility of exhuming Keith Park."

"Nice subject change with breakfast, man."

"He said if we have enough evidence that points to homicide, he could probably swing it."

"We haven't even come up with anything in LA."

"That's not entirely true. If we can make a murder case out of the Tacoma situation, I think Clayton'll testify. He as much as said so."

"I must have been somewhere else when he said that," Blair added sarcastically.

"He was more open to it if the outcome was putting the bastard away for keeps. Nobody wants him coming back for revenge, but if he's on death row, that ain't gonna happen."

"Death row? You think?"

"Probably wishful thinking. But a life membership at the Washington State Men's Club is a real possibility."

"Here's how it'll shake down, Jim: even if Clayton testifies to back me up--isn't he past the statute of limitations now?"

"Unfortunately, yeah, he is."

"Okay, so he testifies, I testify, and everyone sees what a nasty person Vince is and they give him ten or fifteen years for what he did to me. His lawyer talks him off the hook for premeditated murder with Park, and it ends up being a heat of passion thing. They tack on another twenty years for manslaughter. With all the different little time-off incentives in the prison system and parole, he'll be back out and mad as hell in seven or eight years, tops. Shit, I wouldn't be testifying if I had a choice."

"What do you mean, 'if you had a choice'?"

"Come on, man. You know what you'd think of me if I didn't. And if there's one thing I couldn't stand it would be for you to look at me like I was...a disappointment."

"You think that's what I'd feel if you didn't testify?"

"I know that's what you'd feel. You'd think I was as weak and despicable as every other person who won't step forward and work with the system."

"Oh, man." Jim set his juice back in the beverage holder. He was quiet a long time, staring out the side window, hand rubbing over his chin. Finally, he spoke again to Blair, who was staring straight ahead out the windshield. "Blair, I didn't get you away from Watson to make a case or to save a witness. I did that because I love you. To save you. There's nothing in the Blessed Protector contract that says you have to devote your life to doing everything my way for the rest of time." Jim took a deep breath and released it slowly. "If you don't want to testify, all you have to do is refuse. Nothing between us will change."

"Sure it will. You'll think less of me."

"Dammit, Blair, what do you want me to say? 'Gee, that's just wonderful that you aren't going to testify against the son of a bitch who used you for a punching bag and taught you to stick your ass up in the air every time he snapped his fingers'?"

"You just proved my point." Blair unfastened his seat belt and got out of the car.

"Sandburg! Where--?" Jim got out of the car, cursing under his breath as he watched his partner striding briskly across the parking lot toward an area of empty picnic tables on a small patch of grass. "Sandburg! Get back here! Now!"

"That's great!" Blair shouted, turning on his heel to face the very large, very angry man advancing toward him. "Now you fucking sound like him, too!! What comes next, huh? You gonna swat me? Drag me back to the car and then kick me around the hotel room later?"

"Shut up. Just shut the hell up right now!" Jim shouted back.

"Come on, tough guy. Come on, let's see what you've got! Make me go back to the car!"

"Fine! If that's the way you want it." Jim stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath. He was not going to let this escalate into something violent. Both of them were at the end of their ropes, and their anger was feeding off each other. "Blair, dammit, get in the car! Now I'm not going to ask you again. I don't know what this tantrum is supposed to prove but it's getting old."

"It's supposed to prove that I really don't have any choices with you! All those pretty words about how I could do whatever I wanted and you'd never hurt me--just so much bullshit, man!" Blair yanked his arm away from Jim, whose grip had loosened with the sting of Blair's words. There were tears on Blair's face and in his voice as he continued. "You said you'd never treat me this way no matter what I did! But you're no better than Vince! At least he was up front about it. He just openly beat me when he was angry. You pretend I have choices but I really don't. You can't stand not being in control," Blair accused, angrily swiping at his tears. "You know, way back when I turned down that trip to Borneo, I thought you were pissed off at me and were giving me attitude the whole time you thought I was going because you were going to miss me--"

"I was--"

"Bullshit! You were pissed off at me because I wasn't doing what you wanted me to do, and as soon as I did, you were happy again. Probably the only reason you haven't beaten the shit out of me by now is that I let you have your way. I lived by your goddamn ridiculous roster of house rules. I spent my whole fucking life kissing your ass. As soon as I stop doing that, you start bawling me out the same way Vince did!"

"That's enough! I've had about all I'm going to take from you, Sandburg. Now you can just get your ass back in that car now!" Jim took two steps forward, and was horrified at Blair's response. A flash of fear crossed Blair's features as he started to back away, clumsily enough to lose his balance and fall back on the grass. He covered his head and brought his knees up, as if to shield his body to the best of his ability. Jim felt a sickness in his stomach, wondering if this was how Blair tried to defend himself against Watson's kicks.

"Blair...sweetheart, come on. It's okay." Jim knelt behind the curled form and tried to turn him, but he only contracted his body harder in response. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, baby. Come on. I won't hurt you. Think about who you're with, Chief. Have I ever hit you?" Jim kept his tone low and soothing. He was grateful, mainly for Blair's sake, that the picnic tables blocked the view of this scenario from the windows of the restaurant and the few people eating in their cars. "Blair, come on, look at me. Are you really angry at me, Blair? Because I know I'm mad as hell, but I'm not mad at you." Jim ignored the little flinch from Blair as he rested a hand on his shoulder. He rubbed it gently, then moved his hand to the back of Blair's head and caressed his hair. "I promised you last night I'd never hurt you. Please look at me, baby."

Blair slowly lowered the arms that covered his head and looked up hesitantly at Jim, keeping his arms at the ready in case he had made a mistake by looking out unprotected. Jim just smiled at him.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered. Jim could see the tremors running through his lover's body.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I'm not going to hurt you. Did you hurt yourself when you fell?" Jim sloly reached up to the newly exposed face and stroked Blair's cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"My side hurts a little."

"You want to go get it checked out?"

"I-I don't think it's th-that b-bad."

"You're still scared, aren't you, baby? Don't be afraid of me. I'm all air and no action."

"I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to do this."

"Think you can sit up?"

"Yeah." Blair didn't pull away from Jim this time as he slid his arm around the smaller man's shoulders and guided him into a sitting position. Jim sat next to him on the grass and opened his arms. Blair scooted into them readily, winding his arms around Jim's middle, holding on tightly.

"It's okay to be angry, Chief. I know I have so much anger in me about all this that sometimes it pops out at you, and it shouldn't." He pressed Blair's head against his shoulder. "But you can make me as mad as you want, and I will never hurt you."

"I shouldn't have yelled at you," Blair muttered.

"You have to let that anger out sometimes, sweetheart. Are you really mad at me? It's okay if you are."

"I'm mad as hell at somebody!" Blair replied, seemingly frustrated. Jim gently took a hold of his shoulders and separated them far enough to be face to face with Blair.

"You know who you're mad at, Chief. Tell me. Say it. Say what you feel. Come on."

"I'm mad at Vince, okay?! I want him dead! I want to rip his heart out and stomp on it!! I want to kick him and stomp on him and fuck him with a broom handle until he splits in half!! I wanna hear him scream and see the blood run out and...and..." Blair was out of breath, red-faced and crying when he finally stopped and stared at Jim. "God, Jim, I never felt this way before...about anybody. I...I want to really kill him. I hate him so much I wanna see him in pain...suffering..." Blair slumped into Jim's arms, glad for the support that came in the tight embrace.

"It's natural, sweetheart. And it's so good it's coming out." Jim said soothingly, rubbing Blair's back.

"I hate him! I still want him dead!" Blair's fists pounded against Jim's back to illustrate his words.

"So do I. So do I, baby. Go ahead and get as mad as you want. Just understand that it's all Vince's fault--not yours. You're not to blame for any of this."

"I'm gonna testify against that son of a bitch. He thinks I won't. He thinks I won't face him.That I can't tell everybody all the sick things he did to me! I'm gonna nail him!"

"Damn right you are. We both are."

"Are you guys okay out here?" A young man in a red uniform approached where the two men sat in the grass. "One of the ladies inside asked me to call the cops, but I thought I should check it out," he said, a little hesitantly. He was all of nineteen years old, and Jim figured a good wind would probably blow him across the parking lot. Jim smiled, since Blair had hidden his face against him and wasn't letting go. Jim wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or emotion.

"Yeah, we're fine. My friend here has a few...problems. He's out on a day pass," Jim concluded in a confidential whisper as if the man in his arms couldn't hear him. He felt Blair chortle a little at that explanation.

"Oh, geez, that's too bad. Uh, well, maybe you should, you know, take him back or something."

"Yeah, I think I will. Thanks."

"Sure. Anytime. I hope it wasn't the food." The kid's honest comment cracked Jim up, and it brought Blair out of hiding, laughing as hard as he'd been crying moments earlier.

"Food was fine," Jim informed him, stifling a laugh. The young man nodded, and went back into the restaurant. Jim helped Blair up on his feet and keeping an arm around him, led him back to the car.

"I'm sorry," Blair said softly, his laughter having faded as he got in the car.

"Don't be," Jim responded, closing the passenger door and moving around to he driver's side.

"I said some awful things to you. God, Jim, I didn't mean any of it--the stuff I said to you. I just...I was so...I don't know."

"Pissed off?"

"Yeah, that covers it. Hostile, I guess." Blair shook his head, still wiping at his face with one of the paper napkins. "I hate that he can turn me into this. I never actively wished someone dead before. And I never really enjoyed thinking about hurting somebody. Shit, man, what kind of monster did he turn me into, anyway?"

"You're not a monster. You're angry. The trouble is, Blair, you cut people so damn much slack that you don't get angry all that often. But it doesn't make you a monster. If Vince were tied up, kneeling on the ground in front of you, and you had any choice of weapons at your disposal, would you torture him for real? Or kill him?" Jim watched as Blair let that concept sink in.

"No," he replied softly.

"Okay then. Don't get down on yourself for having a little natural hostility in you toward someone who brutally abused you."

"Would you?"

"Would I what?"

"Kill him if you could?"

"I could anytime, sweetheart. I just want to see this thing end the best possible way for you. My doing life isn't part of the picture."

"But if you could get away with it, you would?"

"Don't ask me questions like that, Chief. It's better if I don't answer them."

Jim pulled out into the bustling morning traffic, and Blair asked no more questions.

Mitch Hurlaghe was a stocky man in his mid-sixties with a small fringe of gray hair and silver wire-framed glasses. He lived in a small, one-floor house in the suburbs with a well-manicured lawn and an impressive garden out back, tended by his wife, Charlotte, who served the three men coffee on the patio and then retreated into the house to leave them to their private discussion.

"I can't say I'm surprised to hear that Watson finally got himself arrested." Hurlaghe took a drink of his coffee and leaned back in his patio chair. Dressed in khaki shorts and a t-shirt, he was the picture of relaxed retirement.

"Were you familiar with the Shelly Michaels incident?" Jim asked.

"I don't think there were many people affiliated with the school who weren't. Watson was popular--typical jock type. Dated cheerleaders. Shelly wasn't a cheerleader, and she came from a nice family. She was a good student and served on several student committees. No one could understand her putting up with Watson's antics. It was obvious he was mistreating her, and she continued to see him. I finally spoke with her parents, and they concurred that it should be ended. So they stepped in and told her she couldn't see him anymore. It was shortly after that she was raped and beaten--but of course, it was the work of a short, stocky Hispanic in his forties."

"You're kidding," Jim responded.

"Nope. She claimed that this assailant attacked her in the parking lot of a nearby cineplex, and she gave that description. No one, including her parents, believed Watson wasn't guilty, but she held to her story until she left town."

"Did he threaten someone, do you think?" Blair suggested.

"Most probably. Watson could snap a man's neck like a twig, even then. He was one of the most outstanding wrestlers we ever had. He knew all the right moves. What troubled me was his attitude--aside from the whole mess with Shelly. He was mean-spirited. Wrestling wasn't a sport, it was a way to overpower people and inflict pain."

"Was he ever reprimanded or disciplined for unsportsman-like conduct?"

"On occasion, but nothing serious enough to get him thrown off the team. Personally, I felt that someone with his propensity for violence didn't belong in a sport. He got into several fights with other boys, and we had a few complaints from girls he mistreated." "Do you know whatever became of Shelly Michaels?"

"She got married, moved out of state. I understand she was killed in a car accident two years ago."

"Terrific," Blair muttered.

"I was surprised to hear that Watson swung the other way. You said he was accused of beating and raping a guy he was living with?"

"Yeah, me," Blair spoke up.

"Sorry to hear that."

"Mr. Hurlaghe, is there anything you can tell us, any lead at all that might help?" Jim prodded.

"I can give you a few more names to contact. Boys he hung around with."

"That would be great." Jim diligently jotted down a series of names, along with Hurlaghe's speculations on where the people might be currently.

Somewhat discouraged at having only gained themselves more legwork, the two men drove toward their appointment with Donald Massner, Watson's old coach.

Massner was still working at the same high school where he'd coached Watson. He was a tall, well-built man with brush-cut grey hair and an abrupt persona. He was supervising a summer youth program when he took a break to meet with Jim and Blair.

"I'm glad you folks got a hold of me," he began, leading them into a small office off the gymnasium. "It's about time somebody nailed his ass to the wall."

"It doesn't sound like you thought a great deal of Watson. I understand he was one of your finest wrestlers," Jim probed.

"He had one of the best win records. There's a difference. He was arrogant, rude to his teammates, late to practices. It was only his ability that trapped us into keeping him on the team. He was the star of it." Massner shook his head. "Perverted little bastard developed his taste for boys here."

"How do you mean?" Jim winced a little at the insinuation that male on male relationships were by nature perverse, but he wasn't surprised at all by that attitude.

"Caught him in the locker room buggering some scrawny kid who wasn't even on the team. He was a reporter for the school paper, supposed to do a story about Watson. Ended up getting his ass fucked in the shower stalls."

"Was it consensual?" Blair asked finally.

"Watson was twice his size, the kid was yelping like a scalded puppy, and he was bleeding when Watson pulled out. Of course, pencil neck said it was all his idea, that Watson wasn't doing anything he wasn't given permission to do."

"But you didn't buy that?"

"Hell no."

"You knew about Shelly Michaels?" Jim asked.

"Happened right after the incident with the kid in the shower stalls. I think he wanted to be sure he still had the reputation as a stud instead of a faggot."

"The boy he raped in the locker room area--what was his name?"

"Nathan Delevan. He teaches English here now."

"Do you think he'd talk to us?"

"I doubt it. He'd probably deny that any of it happened, or laugh it off as teenage experimentation."

"Would you be willing to testify in court to anything you've told us today?" Jim asked.

"Sure. Just give me a call if you want me involved."

"Did you ever observe any other incidents of a similar nature with Watson?"

"No. He probably kept his fun and games off school property. But he took a real liking to Nathan. Since Nathan claimed it was consensual, the worst that happened was they both got suspended for a couple of days. By the time the story made the rounds in the locker room, they had added a girl, and she was the one getting fucked. Watson was one hell of a spin doctor even then."

"He continued his relationship with Nathan?"

"Yeah. Under the guise of Delevan covering the school sports for the paper, but they hung out together a lot."

"Didn't anyone ever speculate...?" Blair probed uncertainly.

"Most of us knew. The students were pretty into the whole Watson myth--star athlete, good student, skirt-chaser. But the staff knew better."

"We really appreciate your time today, Mr. Massner." Jim stood, and Blair followed suit. "Do you happen to know where we could reach Delevan over the summer?"

"Sure thing." He pulled out a phone book, flipped a few pages, and then jotted down an address and phone number. "Good luck."

"Thank you. We may be in touch."

"You know where to find me."

Back in the rental car, Jim made his way through the maze of streets to the one where Nathan Delevan lived. Blair had been strangely silent during their ride from the high school. Jim finally probed him.

"What's on your mind, Chief?"

"I was just thinking about Delevan. Trying to picture what this is going to mean for him now--us showing up and asking about Watson."

"Has to be done."

"Jim, what is any of this really proving?"

"That Watson is a malicious, perverted, sadistic son of a bitch. So that in case a jury has any misgivings about taking your word as gospel, they'll have a half dozen other people stepping in to back you up." Jim exhaled loudly. "And hopefully, in Tacoma, we'll find something meaningful about Keith Park."

"I hope we don't fuck up Delevan's life by showing up and asking about this."

"Whatever it takes," Jim responded, not taking his eyes off the road. Blair knew there was more to the statement than just Jim's feelings about interviewing Nathan Delevan. Watson wasn't going to walk away from this situation, one way or the other.

Nathan Delevan lived in a small brick house with white shutters and children's toys scattered in the front yard. The first person to greet them was a five-year-old girl on a tricycle, who went fleeing into the house yelling "Daddy!"

"Geez, are we really that scary?" Blair asked Jim, smiling a little.

"Can I help you?" A slender man in his mid-thirties came out the front door, leaving the child watching him from behind the screen door.

"Nathan Delevan?" Jim waited as the other man nodded. "I'm Detective Jim Ellison. I'm with the police in Cascade, Washington. This is my partner, Blair Sandburg. We're investigating a case against a man named Vince Watson. I understand you two used to be friends."

"What has this got to do with me? I haven't seen him in years."

"As you can probably understand, building some sort of profile of an individual's personality and character is essential to a criminal case. Watson's behavior during his high school years is part of that profile."

"I'd really rather not get involved."

"We've spoken to Coach Massner," Jim prodded. The other man slowly turned fuscia from the open neck of his golf shirt to the edge of his sandy hair.

"Look, if you're talking about that 'incident'," he made quote marks in the air with his fingers, "that Massner loves to talk about, it was a stupid teenage experimentation. Just kids messing around."

"So Watson didn't rape you?"

"For God's sake. What do I look like? Some kind of faggot who can't take care of myself?"

"Not at all, Mr. Delevan. I've never looked on any rape victim as weak and defenseless. It can happen to the strongest of people. However, the coach seemed convinced you were an unwilling participant. Look, Watson is up for rape and aggravated assault right now. The person he assaulted lived with him, and we need to strengthen our case."

"I'm the one he assaulted." Blair spoke up, and once again produced his photos. "I'm not here to get sympathy, but I want to make sure that Watson gets nailed for what he did to me, and most importantly, that he doesn't do it to someone else."

"Oh, man," Delevan commented, looking at the photos. "I thought he was giving me a rough time because he smacked me a few times."

"That wasn't even the time he was arrested for. He worked me over like that about three times total. The final time, my spleen ruptured, and I almost died. The first beating, in the photos? I got that because I went to the doctor after the first time he...you know."

"Goddamn pervert." Delevan handed him the photos back. "He fucked up my whole life in high school. Two years of servicing that bastard," he continued, keeping the low tone of voice they'd adopted to keep their discussion from his daughter. "I was in therapy for years trying to reconcile what the hell happened back then. I still...there are things that are...hard."

"I know it's asking a lot of you to step forward now, but if you would be willing to testify--" Blair was cut off by Delevan's upraised hand.

"Look, I'm sorry you tangled with him. But I have a whole new life now."

"I want that too--but I can't have it unless that bastard is behind bars. Everybody he's messed with has a new life now. They don't want to get involved. You know what? That sucks. I'm pressing charges against him for myself, but also for the next poor sucker he sweet-talks into a relationship. He isn't going to just disappear from my life like he did from yours. He's going to want my head--among other parts of my anatomy--for getting him arrested. I need help from somebody, or I'm going to live my whole life waiting for him to come back for me."

"It's not that I don't understand what you're saying, but--" Delevan stopped abruptly, and ran a hand back through his hair. "I knew what happened with Shelly back then and I kept quiet. If I had been willing to come forward then, and help her...she couldn't do anything because I was Vince's alibi. What I really was was the guy who...who held her down while he..." Delevan shivered despite the warm breeze. "He had me pretty thoroughly terrorized. I did anything he told me to. That was no exception. And I had a younger sister--a sophomore. She wasn't anything exceptional to look at, and Vince kept threatening to ask her out if I didn't stay in line. She would've gone too."

"That's his tactic all right," Blair responded, nodding. "He threatened J--someone important to me to keep me in line too."

"I'd have to talk to my wife. She knows all about this. But I want her to have some input on whether or not I get in the middle of this. If Watson isn't convicted and comes looking for the people who testified... I have my family to consider."

"Please consider it carefully," Jim replied, handing Delevan his card. "I've written the number where we can be reached while we're in California. We'll be here another day or two, and then you can leave a message at the Cascade number."

"I will think it through." He smiled slightly. "I really would like to help out. I just have to be sure...you know, with my family...that it'd be safe."

"If we get enough support, we can put him away for a significant length of time. We just need a damn strong case."

"I'll try to get back to you before you leave."

"Thank you, Mr. Delevan."

The rest of their stay in California was uneventful, though they were thrilled to hear an affirmative reply back from Nathan Delevan only hours before they were due to board the plane back to Cascade.

Blair slept peacefully in Jim's arms at night, but neither man seemed to be pursuing anything sexual for the time being. The first time had been good, but it had still brought up painful memories for Blair, and Jim figured he had enough to cope with without stirring his emotions up further. They still had the legwork on the Park case to complete.

A side trip to Tacoma unearthed very little new evidence. Keith Park had fallen down an outdoor staircase and broken his neck. If there had been a pattern of abuse, the elderly landlady was disinclined to reveal that.

The house where Park and Watson lived in the upstairs apartment was not close to its neighbors, and there were no records of calls to the police for domestic violence incidents.

Keith Park was a loner who didn't have many close friends, and his family all lived in the Midwest. His parents hadn't seen him for over a year before he died. His homosexuality had estranged him from the rest of the Park family, and he'd moved out to the West Coast. Ironically, he had lived in LA while Watson did, but didn't meet him until Park accepted a job in Tacoma as a photographer for a local newspaper.

Watson's employer in Tacoma had no complaints against him, except for a passing mention that he appeared to have a bad temper only marginally under control.

"That was a whole lot of nothing," Blair grumbled as he dropped onto the couch. Jim locked the door of the loft behind them and tossed his keys in the basket.

"We did well in California, Chief. You can't win 'em all."

"But he probably murdered Keith Park! Dammit, Jim, we could have put him away for life!"

"Okay, so Tacoma was a dead end. We still gained a lot by what we found out in LA. We have established a pattern of behavior with Watson-

"Oh, yeah, right. If Nathan Delevan really comes through and testifies. If he decides not to, it's back to my word against his. You said yourself that the DA felt we needed some back up for me."

"It never hurts to be able to corroborate your version of life with Vince Watson." Jim settled on the couch behind where Blair sat in the corner of it, facing away from him. He gathered the smaller body in his arms and rested his chin on Blair's head.

"He's gonna skate, Jim. You know it and I know it."

"He isn't going to skate, sweetheart. I already told you that."

"I don't want you to do something stupid, Jim. I mean that." Blair put his hands over the hands that crossed at his waist. "I don't want to lose you that way."

"You're not going to lose me at all."

"Look, I know you think that because you know 10,000 ways to kill a man with a toothpick from being in Covert Ops and another 10,000 ways to hide the body, that means I want you to go out and do away with Vince. I don't want you to turn into a murderer for me. I don't want you to look at me and know that I made you do that."

"You aren't making me do anything, Chief. I've told you before to quit worrying about it."

"I can't, Jim. You can talk to me, man. You always shut me up with telling me not to ask any questions, but you know damn well I'd never testify against you or say anything to anybody-anything you told me would be in confidence. I'd die before I'd tell on you."

"I know that. I don't want you lying for me."

"But it's okay if you kill for me?"

"Nobody said anything about killing, sweetheart." Jim kissed the soft hair that had been tucked under his chin.

"What're you planning then? To sternly advise him not to bother me?"

"Worked before, didn't it?"

"No, Jim, it didn't. Vince isn't obeying your advice. He's lurking. It's the calm before the storm. He's up to something." Blair shuddered, and Jim's arms tightened around him.

"I know that he seems larger than life to you sometimes, sweetheart, but he isn't. He's just a man. A sick, perverted, twisted man but still-nothing more than that. He isn't all-powerful."

"It feels like he is. It's just like tomorrow. Meeting with the DA. He can still humiliate me even by proxy. Do you know what it feels like to talk about the things he did to me? To admit that I let him treat me that way and didn't do anything to save myself?"

"We've been over this before, Chief. You didn't let him do anything. He terrorized you into thinking that you were going to be putting the people you loved in jeopardy by crossing him. The dangerous thing about this SOB is that he's a smart SOB. He knew how to psych you out. Just beating you or threatening you wouldn't keep you in line. You'd want your freedom and your safety, and you'd be independent-minded enough to tell him to fuck off. But if you thought you were putting me at risk, or your mom at risk, you'd endure anything. You stayed for us-for the people you love."

"I still look like the world's biggest wuss. I mean, look at what he did to me. Over and over again, and I didn't fight back."

"Just because you don't fight back doesn't make it less of a rape, or it doesn't make it right for him to beat you." Jim nuzzled Blair's hair, cuddling him close. "I know this is hard. If there was any way I could spare you talking to the DA tomorrow, or testifying at all, I would. You know that."

"But that's the only way. I know."

"Look at it this way: at least you're getting a practice run with friendly troops before you have to deal with the trial."

"I guess." He paused a moment. "You getting hungry, lover?" Blair turned slightly in Jim's embrace. It was the first time he'd shown any interest in food without Jim prodding him to eat. Even though his appetite was normal now, and his weight at a good level again, he still rarely suggested food first or offered to cook.

"What'd you have in mind?"

"I don't know. Have we got any pasta in the house?"

"There's some fettucine."

"I can work with that. Anything we can put on it?"

"There's some frozen chicken breasts and I think we have all the stuff you used to use to make sauce."

"Fettucine alfredo with chicken. Cool. I can do that." Blair got up and headed for the kitchen.

Jim turned on the couch and rested his chin on his arm on the back of it, watching Blair move around the kitchen as if he'd never left. It was so wonderful to see him there, doing something so ordinary and domestic as pulling out pans to cook dinner, that Jim had to close his eyes for a moment against the emotion that was sweeping over him. His beautiful Blair was coming back, little by little. And when this damn trial was over, maybe he could come back the rest of the way, and finally put Vince Watson behind him.

Beverly Sanchez sorted through a formidable stack of paper that had bulged from a manilla folder she'd brought to the conference table. Blair had expressed mixed feelings about talking to someone they both knew, but he'd admitted to Jim that he realized it made very little difference. In a matter of a couple of weeks, he'd be telling his story to an open courtroom.

"There are a few things we should go over before we get started with the Q&A." Beverly folded her hands together and rested them on top of the pile of papers. "There are a couple of things the defense is planning to use that I think you should be aware of-both of you." Jim and Blair exchanged glances, and she continued. "First, Watson is claiming that Blair only started having a relationship with him because he looked like you, Jim." She looked from one to the other, obviously expecting some reaction or objection. "Blair?"

"That's true," he admitted quietly. Jim pitied his lover immensely. Being forced to read one's diary out loud and defend it couldn't have been more embarrassing.

"You're kidding?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm not finding fault with your preferences. I was just hanging my hat on that being a lot of fluff-a smokescreen from the defense." She paused, and then rolled her eyes as if trying to prepare herself to ask the next question and hear the answer. "He further claims that you and Jim are currently lovers, and that this case is less about abuse than it is about a jealous lover coming to quote 'drag Sandburg off by the hair back to his cave'."

"Jim and I weren't lovers when I met Vince. So that's not true."

"You weren't lovers when you met Vince. Hold up a second. Are you trying to tell me that you are now?"

"That's what he's saying." Jim rescued Blair from his uncertainty. "It took something like this happening to shake me up, I guess. But now that it has, a lot of things fell into place for me. For us."

"I don't believe this." She snorted an ugly little laugh. "All this time, I just assumed this was so much tabloid fodder Watson and his lawyer cooked up."

"If you're waiting for me to apologize for this relationship, it isn't going to happen." Jim met Beverly's eyes with unwavering conviction.

"Well, I guess there's no point in wasting our time bemoaning what can't be helped." She started shuffling through her papers. "One thing you should be aware of from the outset is that we have a couple of strikes against us-well, several, given what you've just told me. First, we have a male victim. I know it's an unjust double standard, but male abuse victims are not accorded the same sympathy and credibility as female victims."

"That sucks," Jim interjected.

"I agree. So does the hole in the ozone layer, but it exists. Second, we have a homosexual relationship as the domestic set-up. Even with every effort made to select a liberal jury, you'll get some members of it who won't be able to put that aside and objectively consider the evidence of domestic violence without putting it in a different light because of that."

"Do you think we're all finished because of Jim and me?" Blair asked.

"Not necessarily, but it's a considerable obstacle I'd have liked more warning about than this. Listen, I don't agree with what Watson did. Whether I agree with or understand your lifestyle or preferences, nothing justifies that type of behavior. Hopefully a jury can view it that way too. The third problem we have is the issue of kinky sex."

"What?" Jim seemed shocked, but Blair just slid down slightly in his chair and covered his face with one hand.

"Watson has a fairly extensive collection of...toys. He claims that most of them were your idea, Blair."

"That's a damn lie," came a low voice from behind the shelter of Blair's hand.

"You didn't order any of these items?" She slid an inventory list in front of Blair, which Jim began reading over his shoulder. Handcuffs, dildos, whips and other assorted paraphernalia were listed there. A total of twenty-six adult toys, all leaning toward S&M activities comprised the list.

"Yes," Blair muttered.

"Why did you just tell me none of them were your idea then?"

"Because they weren't," he replied quietly.

"The orders were all placed in your name, charged to your credit card."

"He picked the stuff out and made me order it, okay?" Blair looked up, his voice raised with a definite threat of tears behind it. "It gave him a thrill to make me order it because he knew I I didn't want to do things that way. I knew he was going to use that crap on me and he knew I hated it and it just made it that much more fun for him to make me pay for it."

"He used all of these items with you?"

"What do you think?" Blair shot back, wiping away a couple of escaping tears. "He only stopped using the whip because the marks lasted too long and he was afraid of someone seeing them."

"Goddamn that bastard," Jim growled.

"He says that you had a taste for this kind of activity, and that it escalated as your relationship progressed." She waited as Blair laughed a little, though there was no joy in the sound.

"Why doesn't that surprise me? I've never had a taste for this kind of stuff. I'm not making judgements on people who do, but that's never been what sex was about in my mind. I always thought it ought to be about love, and I don't see what handcuffing someone to a bed and whipping them has to do with love."

"Is that what he did?"

"Look, suffice it to say that when he got one of his new toys, he wanted to play with it. A lot. Until he got sick of it, or until he was too tired, or too hard and just wanted to fuck my brains out and then roll over and go to sleep." Blair paused. "I'm sorry. I'm being unnecessarily crude."

"Understandable." Beverly tried to smile slightly. She glanced at Jim, who was a study in contained rage. His jaw was twitching, the fist that rested on the table clenched so tightly that the knuckles were white.

"Do I have to describe everything?" Blair asked.

"Inasmuch as it gets us sympathy. You don't need to be gratuitous, but the fact you weren't interested in that type of activity, followed by descriptions of some of the more violent incidents you were subjected to might help us."

The next several minutes put Blair through the difficult paces of going down the list of toys and describing how and when each one was used. Blair was always on the receiving end of the painful stimuli, having been subjected to everything from simple bondage to whipping to increasingly exotic and painful activities.

The session concluded after running through all of the known facts of the case, including the beatings and sexual assault incidents that Blair had previously disclosed.

"Well, gentlemen, I can tell you one thing. We have an uphill battle here. I don't think it's beyond us to win it, but it's going to be a struggle. It's only fair for me to warn you that Watson's lawyer is going to take the gloves off when he cross-examines you, Blair."

"Make the victim the criminal, huh? That's nothing new." Jim shook his head.

"Jim, you have to understand that all we have is Blair's word that he didn't like all the kinky toys that were ordered by him and placed on his credit card. Both of the key bombshells of Watson's defense are true-Blair was carrying a torch for you, and the two of you are currently lovers. That doesn't leave you a hell of a lot of credibility as a cop on the case."

"What about Nathan Delevan?"

"I spoke with him by phone yesterday. He will be a great witness. Something a little more current would have been helpful, but we'll work with what we have."

"What do you think our chances really are?" Jim leaned forward, elbows on the table.

"I think we'll get a conviction on the aggravated assault without question. Even if Blair had all the kinky tastes Watson claims he did, no one asks to be beaten until their spleen ruptures. And even if you twisted it around to say that Blair considered a beating a turn on, that degree of beating is irresponsible and absurd. I have total confidence in that charge. I have some concerns about how far we'll get with the rape charge."

"He needed stitches, Beverly. You've seen the hospital reports." Jim hated to bring up the technicalities, glancing at Blair, who had very little dignity left after everything that had been discussed. Now they were discussing the condition of his rectum as if it were just another piece of evidence.

"If-mind you, if , the jury buys the S&M angle, the tearing and other injuries are not outside the realm of possibility for some messing around that got out of hand."

"Oh, Beverly, come on!" Jim slumped back in his chair. "Who in hell asks to be torn up like that?"

"A pain junkie."

"Are we done here?" Blair asked quietly, keeping his eyes focused on the entwined hands in his lap.

"Yes. Blair, I'm sorry this had to get so personal. There isn't any other way."

"I know. I just hope it works."

"So do I. I'll be in touch if I have any other questions."

"You know where to find us," Jim responded, standing. Blair followed suit.

Blair was silent for most of the ride back to the loft. He kept his eyes focused on the scenery passing the passenger window. Jim finally reached over and picked up the hand that rested on Blair's knee.

"I'm sorry you have to go through this, baby."

"How can you even...even care about me after you heard what I did with him?" Blair's voice was shaky, but he kept his gaze averted out the window.

"Watson was the pervert here, not you."

"Sometimes I feel so...so guilty. Dirty. I didn't want to do any of that stuff. But it all happened."

"It wasn't your choice, sweetheart."

"Jim, they're going to make me look like nothing better than a kinky male whore. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to end things right now."

"What? Why?" Jim tried to keep his divided concentration on the traffic.

"Being lovers with me is the worst thing that could happen to your career."

"And the best thing that ever happened to me . Screw my career. Screw all the bastards who want to mess us up. I love you, Blair. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I'll be damned if I give up my one shot at happiness with the person I love because of some set of lies Watson cooks up."

"There's something I don't exactly understand, Jim. It's been bothering me since I got back."

"What's that, sweetheart?"

"When I left, it was because you couldn't handle thinking about loving another man, not even me-I think those were your exact words." Blair took a deep breath. "I guess I need to know why all of a sudden, when I show up all messed up and half dead, you suddenly want me for a lover."

"I thought we'd been over that. I guess it took the proverbial brick house falling on me before I stopped and assessed what mattered more-sticking with some tired old preconceived notion about love and sex or having a life with the person I wanted to be with."

"But how do you just switch your orientation all of a sudden?"

"I don't know." Jim was frustrated now. Blair was asking him to put into words feelings that seemed to defy them. "Maybe you fall in love and everything else figures itself out."

"All I'm saying here is that the only thing worse than a pity fuck would be a guilt fuck. I don't want you taking me in and doing what I want because you feel guilty that I got messed up after I left you. That wasn't your fault. That I did all by myself."

"Watson did that."

"Whatever. The point is, it isn't your responsibility to make it up to me because someone else abused me."

"Is that what you think we're about? Some kind of guilt relief on my part?"

"I believe that you love me. I just don't know as it would have taken this form if you hadn't felt bad that I got what I got with the next person I was with after you."

"Sometimes an idea has to be suggested to someone before they can embrace it. Sometimes you don't think of something until someone brings it up. I never even thought of making love to you, even though I loved you with all my heart from...well, practically from the day you moved in with me. I didn't even really want to like you at first, but I did. And before long, I loved you and wanted you in my life. But since you were a man, I didn't let myself consider the possibility of us being lovers. I thought of you as family."

"So what changed?"

"I spent close to a year by myself, and I think I went on a grand total of two dates in that time. I hated every minute of both of them. It made me realize that I wanted to eat dinner with you, I wanted to go to movies with you-even if you do talk too much through them-and I wanted to share everything I could with you. I felt split down the middle without you. And I guess I woke up one day and realized that you knew what we had long before I did, and that you were right about what direction it should take next. But by then, we'd been out of touch for months, and the last time I bumped into one of your friends from Rainier, she said you were living with somebody from the athletic staff there."

"Who told you that?"

"Gretchen-the girl you said worked in the Student Services office."

"Oh, yeah. Did you just assume that I was you know with him that way?"

"I didn't see much reason to think differently. It was the way she said it. Not like you were sharing expenses."

"So you figured there wasn't any point in calling, huh?"

"Blair, I think I set a record for the number of calls I made to Rainier's voice mail system. I didn't figure you were any more interested after you'd started a relationship with someone else than you were when you ignored my messages."

"You were pissed at me?"

"Not really. Just disappointed."

"So when I showed up again-"

"I made up my mind I wasn't going to fuck it up the second time."

"This is what you really want then?"

"Yeah, this is what I really want. Geez, Sandburg, what am I going to do with you?"

"Maybe when we get home, you could figure something out," Blair responded, with a definite invitation in his voice. Jim pulled the hand he was holding up to his lips and kissed it.

There was something incredibly sexy about drawing the shades in the middle of the afternoon to make love. At the same time, there was something very awe-inspiring about the responsibility of making love to Blair. Given everything he'd been through, it was difficult to know what he would want to do, what would upset him, or what would, God forbid, remind him of something Watson did.

While Jim contemplated all this in the loft bedroom, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip as he turned back the bed, Blair made his way upstairs. He was already wearing his robe.

"I got undressed downstairs," he explained.

"You're a little ahead of me, Chief," Jim stated, smiling a bit. "Maybe you can give me a hand, huh?" He slid his arms around Blair's waist, pulling him close.

"I figured we were going to take things slower today than we did in LA, and I...I know it sounds weird, but... I didn't want to have to undress for you In front of you, I mean." Blair kept his face buried against Jim's chest as he spoke.

"Any special reason, baby?" Jim stroked the soft hair that hung loosely on Blair's shoulders now.

"He used to make me...strip for him. Move certain ways. It made me feel, I don't know, humiliated the way he did it. I know it would be different with us, but "

"But it still bothers you." Jim squeezed his armload tightly. "I understand, sweetheart. It's okay. Anything you need to do-or not do-you just tell me."

"I want you."

"I want you too."

"No, I mean...I really want you. All the way."

"Are you sure? There's no rush, baby."

"I'm healed, and I--I want to feel you inside me us connected."

"You don't have to do this."

"I understand if you don't want to." Blair pulled back to look at Jim. "I'm not exactly a clean slate here. A lot of people are turned off by used merchandise." Blair lowered his eyes again. There was no anger or bitterness in the voice. Just resignation.

"You're not used merchandise, baby. Not at all." Jim pulled him into a tight embrace. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. I just... I want to... I want to make a commitment to you. A real commitment. Not just words."

"We have a real commitment. You don't have to do anything you're not ready for to prove something to me."

"But I am ready."

"Then I am too, sweetheart." Jim pulled back and cupped Blair's face in both hands. "I need to go get something-"

"I got it covered," Blair replied, pulling a tube of KY from the pocket of his robe. "Do you want to, um, use protection?"

"Come here." Jim took his hand and led him to the side of the bed, where they sat together. Still holding the hand, he continued. "You said Watson always used protection?"

"Every time."

"God, I hate to ask this. Did he use it when you during oral sex too?"

Blair nodded.

"Did he ever do anything for you?"

"Jerked me off once in a while because he wanted me to come while he was inside. He said he liked it better that way."

"Did Watson get tested for HIV regularly?"

"Every six months. He had just had his six-month check up when we got together, and he had another one just before all this happened. They always came back negative."

"How about before Vince? Was there anyone else?"

"There wasn't anybody else except my right hand since I moved in with you."

"All those girls-what about Chris?"

"You've got a long memory, man." Blair laughed a little, shaking his head to think that Jim remembered catching him on the couch with Christine Hong during the Lash case. "What's the expression-close, but no cigar? I cared a lot about Chris, and she seemed to feel the same way about me. We were headed that way but never got there."

"It's been two years for me."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. You know I've never been big on one night stands, Chief."

"Yeah, but that's a long time not to get any."

"You're telling me. At one point I figured I should just go move in with the guys at St. Sebastian's and save on my rent." That made Blair laugh, and Jim smile.

"You think we need to use anything then?"

"We made a commitment to each other, and we've both been in relatively safe situations, and tested regularly. I don't think we need to. I'd like it to be just you and me-no barriers. But only if you feel comfortable with that."

"I'd like it that way." Blair nodded, and looked back down at his lap again. "Jim, if--if after what you heard this afternoon, if being with me... if it kind of grosses you out or anything I'd want you to feel free to stop."

"What I heard this afternoon definitely grosses me out. But not in terms of you grossing me out. I want Watson's head on a plate. Preferably with an apple in his mouth, like the goddamn pig that he is."

"I was so ashamed. I didn't want you to ever hear that stuff. I didn't want you to ever know what I had to do with him." Blair paused, and when he looked up, the beginnings of tears were in his eyes. "Jim, I still don't know if I can do it."

"Do what, sweetheart? There's no rush with us if you're not ready."

"No. I-I mean testify."

"Without your testimony, he'll probably walk, Chief."

"I know." Blair looked down again. "I can't say those things in court, Jim."

"What if I work on getting a closed courtroom, huh? No more people there than those who have to be."

"Could you do that?"

"If I can convince Beverly to work on it with the judge, and I think she will. Given the intimate nature of your testimony, and the fact we don't print rape victims' names anyway, she would have a good chance, I think."

"Okay."

"Okay. And about today, sweetheart...are you sure you're ready to do this?"

"I'm okay, Jim. I called the doctor and asked him. He said I was healed up from the rape. He said if I felt good, I was okay to go ahead. He just told me to take it easy. You know-none of the rough stuff."

"I don't want to hurt you, Blair." Jim stroked the soft curls.

"You won't."

"I'm a little overdressed, baby. Why don't you get comfortable and I'll lose these clothes, huh?" He kissed Blair's forehead. "Get under the covers. We'll snuggle for a while and see where things go, huh?"

"Okay."

Jim went about undressing while Blair shed his robe and climbed into the bed, seemingly relieved at the more relaxed pace this encounter was taking. Before sliding out of his boxers, Jim found a CD of soft piano music and put it in the player next to the bed.

"That's nice," Blair commented, looking very relaxed there among the big pillows, serene smile on his face.

"Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?" Jim discarded his underwear and slipped between the sheets, gathering Blair into his arms.

"You might've mentioned it, oh, last night sometime," Blair replied, grinning and settling into the big arms that held him. It was remarkable how bulging muscles and great strength could mean terror in one man's bed and complete security and solace in another's.

"Just so you don't forget then. You're beautiful. And you smell good. Did I ever tell you that? Or how good it feels to hold you like this? How soft your skin is?"

"If you keep this up, I'm going to start crying here, man."

"I just want you to know that every inch of you is precious to me. And beautiful. God I love you so much."

"I love you too." Blair shifted so his leg flopped over Jim's, and his arm wrapped around the larger man's middle.

"Look at all this," Jim commented softly, playing lightly with the mop of curls on his shoulder. "Just like raw silk."

There was a shaky intake of breath from Blair, and they lay there a while in silence, holding each other and relaxing with the soothing sounds of the music. Then Jim began kissing Blair's forehead, then dipping down to capture the soft lips in a gentle kiss. Blair's mouth yielded to his immediately, opening with the invitation for Jim's tongue to explore.

Blair's hand strayed across Jim's chest, found a nipple and began tweaking and rolling it, smiling against Jim's mouth at the low rumble that came from Jim's throat at the stimulation. Blair pulled away from their kisses, kissing and nibbling a trail over Jim's jaw line and down to his Adam's apple. Jim reveled in the feeling of the silky hair caressing his skin as Blair moved down, fastening that devilish mouth to his nipple, suckling and lapping at it.

Satisfied he had treated the first nub to the utmost torment, he kissed his way over to its mate. As Jim relaxed into the sensations, he realized he longed to see Blair's beautiful body moving over him. He dismissed the thought just as quickly, realizing that Blair had been forced to "put on a show" in bed for far too long. This first time had to be all about love, and nothing else, and the cover of the sheet seemed to be making Blair feel at ease. There was a whole lifetime to watch Blair, and hopefully, as their love grew and matured, and memories of Watson faded a bit, Blair would feel more comfortable being watched by the man who loved him so much.

Jim reached down and guided Blair's head upward, locking their mouths together again, rolling them on their sides. Holding his lover firmly in his arms, he kissed his way down Blair's neck to his shoulders, then began exploring the soft mat of hair that hid the two little buds of flesh he sought. He smiled against his lover's chest as he heard Blair's little whimpers of ecstasy as first one, then the second, nipple rose to attention under Jim's insistent mouth.

His hands slid down Blair's back and cupped his firm, rounded cheeks. Blair just growled a little and humped against Jim, brushing their fast-growing erections together.

"Get me ready?" Blair asked breathlessly, groping under the pillows for the lubricant.

"How about on your side for now?"

"I want to see you when we make love."

"Okay. But if we start out on your back, it's a hard position to hold for a long time. I don't want to put a lot of strain on your side, baby." Jim stroked the pink scar from Blair's recent surgery.

"But when we do it-can I turn over?"

"You can do anything that feels right to you, sweetheart. You don't have to ask." Jim waited while Blair shifted onto his right side and drew his knees up. Jim spooned himself around the other's back a moment and kissed his nape. "I love you."

"Love you too," Blair whispered back.

"If I hurt you, or you change your mind, you just let me know. I don't care how far we've gone-okay?"

"Okay."

"Try to relax, baby. I'm going to touch you a little, and then try to put my finger in a ways, okay?"

"Okay."

Jim coated his finger with the gel and gathering Blair close to him with one arm around his middle, he slid down into the valley between the firm cheeks and felt his way to his lover's center. He gently massaged the gel into the little pucker there, happy to hear Blair's satisfied little grunts. Adding more lubricant, he finally risked slipping the tip of his finger past the little ring of muscle. Blair tensed a moment, then relaxed as the finger continued its gentle massaging while Jim was planting little kisses and nips on Blair's shoulder and neck, his free hand finding and tweaking Blair's taut nipples.

"More," Blair panted, finally moving back to meet the motions of Jim's finger. Jim slid the finger in all the way, and stepped up the pace of its motions. He buried his face in Blair's neck, inhaling his scent and reminding himself how important it was to go slowly. His own arousal was becoming painful, ready to slip into the tight channel he was so carefully preparing.

"I'm putting more slippery stuff on now, baby," Jim explained as he withdrew the finger. "I'm coming back with two. Just relax, and if it hurts, let me know and I'll stop."

"Just do it, please, lover."

"Since you said 'please'..." Jim smiled at the ragged little chuckled from Blair. He carefully eased the two fingers inside the other's body, massaging again, spreading lubricant and trying to relax the inner muscles. He worked the fingers all the way in and brushed a little nub inside his partner's body.

"Oh, God, Jim... Oh, man..." Blair must have realized that vocalization was what had frozen the delicious movement, so he hastened to clarify. "Do it again! Please!" Jim retraced his movements, brushed the little nub again, and felt Blair's whole body spasm in reaction, bearing down on his fingers and moaning out his pleasure. Blair's body was opening more and more to him, the previously taut muscles relaxing. With great concern, he slowly withdrew and returned with three fingers.

"It'll feel fuller this time, baby."

"Just get in there!" Blair groaned, drawing his knees up as far as he could. Jim kissed his shoulder and obliged, massaging him with three fingers. His free hand found Blair's hardness and began pumping. "Oh, Jim... Oh my God!!!!" Blair yelled, writhing with pleasure as Jim found his prostate over and over, pumping the straining erection at the same time. "Please...I want you in me, lover!" Blair gasped.

"Yess," Jim sighed into Blair's hair, his own arousal held at bay as long as possible. He slowly withdrew the three fingers and coated himself with the KY.

"I wanna turn over." Blair flopped on his back, and Jim moved between legs Blair spread wide, pulling them up toward his chest, holding his knees.

"It's not too late if you-"

"Oh, God, Jim, please do it!" Blair gasped breathlessly. Jim only spared a moment to drink in the sight of him there on his back, his legs drawn up, fully exposed. It was the most awe-inspiring sight he'd ever seen. He stroked the backs of Blair's thighs lovingly with gentle hands.

"I've been all over the world, sweetheart. Seen everything... perfect sunrises, the blanket of stars on a clear night in the mountains, the miracles of nature in the rainforest... Dear God, I've never seen anything half as beautiful as you are right at this moment. I love you, baby."

"Show me?" Blair asked through tears of love.

Jim positioned himself at Blair's opening, and slowly began sliding inside his lover's body. He paused at several intervals to give Blair's muscles time to adjust, relax and accept him. He guided Blair's legs around his waist, taking some of the strain of holding the position onto himself. As he sheathed himself completely, Blair's eyes, that had drifted shut moments ago, opened as he adjusted to the bulk inside him. He blinked a few times, and Jim could feel the muscles relaxing a little around him. Then they clenched very deliberately, dragging a groan out of Jim.

"Little demon," he grunted, beginning a slow, rocking motion, leaning forward to capture Blair's mouth, their tongues imitating what their bodies were doing. His hand kept a steady rhythm on Blair's cock, pumping it firmly while he plundered the willing mouth that received him.

Jim was so close to the edge that it only took a few gentle thrusts to push him over the edge. He came as Blair did, the spasmodic pulsing of his lover's passage forcing his climax out of him as they came almost together, calling each other's names.

He carefully moved back, withdrawing from Blair's warmth, easing the strong legs back down to the mattress, watching Blair's sated, sweat-dampened face to see any traces of pain or discomfort. All he saw was a look of contentment.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" He lay beside Blair, gathering the sweaty body to his, loving the feeling of their arms and legs twining and tangling as they lay facing each other. He wasn't sure how to react when Blair began to cry softly against his chest. "Did I hurt you, baby?" he asked softly, rubbing the smooth back slowly.

"I never...knew it could...feel like that. It was so beautiful."

"I never felt this good with anyone else before, sweetheart. Thank you." Jim kissed the disheveled curls, cuddling the beloved body closer.

"It didn't hurt," Blair murmured, sounding surprised. With a pang of sadness, Jim realized that with Blair's prior experiences, anything short of nailing him ruthlessly to the mattress would have seemed shockingly easy.

"It doesn't have to. I love you so much, Blair. Nothing would be worth hurting you."

"Did I do okay?" Blair asked hesitantly. Jim's heart twisted at the uncertain little question.

"You were beautiful, sweetheart. You gave me the most amazing experience I ever had. And I'll tell you a secret--the earth really did move this time." He smiled as he kissed Blair's cheek softly. "Yeah, you did okay."

"I don't want you to think you did anything wrong, but I can't help it." Blair started crying in earnest then, sobs that seemed to rattle his entire body. "It's just...I love you so much...and it's so...good with us."

"It's perfect with us. Perfect and forever. Have a good cry, sweetheart. I understand. Get it all out. Just know that nothing that happened with him was your fault, and it doesn't change how beautiful and special and dear you are to me."

"Not even the sick stuff?"

"Not even the sick stuff, baby. None of it."

"Love you," Blair sobbed into his shoulder.

"Love you too."

"Jim?" Blair seemed to be struggling to regain his voice.

"What, Chief?"

"Happy Birthday."

"Wha--?" Jim had totally forgotten the significance of the date, and being on leave from the department, hadn't even been reminded by gag gifts from the other guys in the bullpen. But Blair remembered. And gave him the most magical gift of all.

"Did you think I'd forget?" Blair pulled back a little, sniffling. Between the rigors of sex and the ravages of tears, he looked weary and bedraggled. And all that much more beautiful to Jim.

"Is that why...today?"

"I wanted us to do it when it was special somehow. And I needed to know that you really wanted me, and that you didn't just feel sorry for me. That's why all the questions before."

"Thank you, sweetheart. That's the most remarkable gift anyone could ever give me. There's only one thing."

"What?"

"Will you get me the same thing again next year?" Jim smiled as he felt Blair really laugh for the first time in a long time.

Concluded in part four.  
Due to the length of this story, it's been split into four parts for easier loading.  
After All

by Candy Apple  
Author's webpage: http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/3281

Continued from part three.

After All - conclusion  
By Candy Apple

"Jim, for the last time, I remember your pager number, I have my cell phone, the battery's charged, I won't leave this building until you come and get me--let's see did I forget anything?"

"I'm driving you crazy," Jim responded, a little regret in his voice.

"Just a little. Come on, man. I'm in my office in the middle of a whole floor full of faculty members."

"Only half full. It's still summer."

"Look, there are plenty of people around. And I promise I'll wait right here until you come back."

"No hanging around the commons or wandering around campus," Jim admonished.

"I'll be okay. And no, I won't do any of those normal things." Blair exhaled loudly. He knew Jim was only trying to look out for him, but Watson was under a restraining order and suspended from his duties at Rainier. If he showed up and pestered Blair, it would mean he'd spend the last two weeks before the trial in jail.

"All right. I have to meet with Simon and Joel, and then I'm going to the gym. You're sure you'll be all right?"

"I'll be fine. The semester starts in three weeks, and I'm so far behind I can't see straight."

"I still don't understand why you can't do this at home."

"All my stuff's here."

"I thought the new computer would mean you wouldn't have to spend as much time by yourself in this old mausoleum of a building." Jim referred to the new, full-sized computer system that resided on an equally deluxe computer table against a wall in the living room.

"It does. I can do a lot of things at the loft instead of hanging around here. But there are some files and stuff I need to get ready for the semester. All that stuff's here. Look, I'll be fine, man. Go do your thing." Blair smiled a little at Jim's concerned expression. "And I love the computer. And you." Blair slid his arms around the larger man's middle and rested his head against Jim's chest.

"I'm sorry I'm being such a pain in the ass about this." Jim's arms came up around Blair, pulling him close.

"I know it's because you love me. But I'll be fine. I think we're just experiencing a little separation anxiety here."

"I guess we really haven't been separated since I got you back, have we?"

"With the possible exception of a few minutes to go to the bathroom, no."

"I'm going to miss you." Jim kissed his forehead.

"For all three hours you're going to be gone, huh?"

"Two hours and forty-five minutes too long for me." He rubbed noses with Blair and then released his hold.

"Go. I'm fine."

"Call me if you need anything." Jim moved reluctantly toward the door, but Blair motioned him to keep going.

"I'm okay, Jim," he said, exasperation in his voice.

"See ya later, Chief." He finally went out the door and pulled it shut behind him. Blair half expected him to pop back in and insist he lock the door to the office, but he heard the familiar footsteps retreating down the hall instead. And felt an irrationally sharp stab of pain at the separation.

//Get a grip, Sandburg. He'll be back in three hours. You'll go get some take-outs and cuddle on the couch and watch TV together, maybe make out a little... Whoa, you're a goner, man. You've got it bad for that guy. Yeah, big surprise there.//

Blair smiled to himself and started digging through the mountain of accumulated mail and other garbage on his desk. It was good to feel strong and healthy again, not to mention happy and loved. The last time he'd sat at the desk, he had needed a pillow on the chair, made four trips to the bathroom in an hour, and was nursing badly bruised ribs. He shuddered at the thought and went back to his sorting.

"Long time no see."

Blair froze as he recognized the voice.

"Cat got your tongue, kiddo?" Watson closed the office door behind him and turned the lock. "Behind closed doors together again. What do you know about that?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing? There's a restraining order-"

"Before you lurch for the telephone and call the campus cops, I have something here you might want to take a look at. And I have a little proposition for you."

"I'm not interested," Blair shot back, sounding much braver than he felt. //Oh, God, Jim, hear him up here somehow. Come back!!//

"I seem to recall you had one of those nifty little TV-VCR things in this rat's nest somewhere." Vince waved a black plastic item around that looked like a boxed video tape.

"You better get the hell out of here."

"Or you'll do what?" Watson advanced quickly across the office until he stood towering over Blair. The long-sleeved t-shirt he wore accentuated the bulbous muscles, and his eyes were as harsh as ever. "If I want your ass right there on the desk, you know I can take you."

"What did you come here for?" Blair forced control into his voice. //How could I have ever thought you looked anything like Jim with those cold, dead eyes?//

"Well, I want to talk about these charges and your testimony. I would prefer you didn't testify against me."

"I reckon you probably would." Blair crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to give Watson the show of cowering he was working so hard to get. "People in hell want ice water, man."

"You're getting pretty smart-mouthed. Must be Ellison doesn't know how to teach you any manners. Anyway, I'd just like you to take a look at this before we finish our chat."

"The machine's over there." Blair indicated a small TV-VCR sitting atop a file cabinet. Watson calmly strolled over to it and popped in the tape.

Blair's heart froze in his chest at the images on the screen. In living color, on video tape, was that magical afternoon the previous week. The day they'd made love on Jim's birthday. The tape captured every intimate move, and when the sheet slid off Jim as he rose up over Blair, the camera was at the perfect angle to showcase Blair on his back, thighs spread wide, and finally, the act of intercourse itself, with all its undulating, kissing and intimacy.

"How did you get that tape?"

"It wasn't all that hard hiding a camera in the bedroom. And the cute little girl in the bakery downstairs was very helpful about giving out that spare key."

"What 'cute little girl'? Mrs. Donoghue would never give you that key, man." Blair recalled that Jim left a spare key with the bakery owner, and very responsible, grandmotherly-type woman he'd known since he moved into the loft several years earlier. Blair had used it himself a couple of times when he'd forgotten his own keys.

"Her little helper would. I thought you'd be interested to know I could pass for Ellison. Might turn you on a little, huh?"

"You could never pass for Jim. Not with anyone who knew him." Blair paused. He knew there was a demand coming, so he prompted it. "What do you want?" Blair asked, unable to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"Well, first, you're not going to testify. Because if you do, copies of this tape will show up in the in-baskets of every high-ranking officer and administrator of the Cascade PD-maybe even in the mayor's office. And that's not even including all the folks here at Rainier that are going to get a copy for their viewing pleasure. Maybe I'll send a few to the residence halls. 'See Professor Sandburg on his back getting his ass fucked'. Bet it'll be a hotter ticket that the Rainier Film Society's foreign film series." Watson smiled in satisfaction as Blair dropped into his chair. "Provided Ellison doesn't kick you out on that well-used little ass of yours, and you still have a thing to break up, you're going to break it off with him and then you're coming back to me."

"I'd die first," Blair replied with total sincerity.

"Probably. But would you let all Ellison's superiors and coworkers see this little piece of film noir? Ellison fucking his male whore? That's all you are, you know. For your fancy degrees and your office and your studious little glasses." Watson leaned on the arms of Blair's chair, his breath blowing against Blair's face as he spoke. "You're still a dirty little whore and you're nothing better." He leaned in still closer. "What you need is a good hard fuck to put you in your place. Not that ballet dancing Ellison was doing with you. Your first night home is going to be a night to remember. Now unless you want this tape to be the hottest video in Cascade VCR's everywhere, you'll do as you're told." Watson straightened up, leaving a pale, shaking Blair in his chair.

"You won't get away with this," he finally managed.

"Maybe not. But if I go down, so does Ellison. And I still haven't forgotten about kicking his ass once and for all. He's sticking his dick in my territory. Such as it is," he concluded, giving Blair a disparaging once-over. "Weigh your options carefully, sweetheart ." He gave the last word an ugly sarcastic emphasis, leaving Blair to wonder how much of their private conversations Vince had been privy to as well. With a slam of the door, he was gone, and Blair was alone.

He pulled himself out of the chair and removed the tape from the VCR. Tears burned hot behind his eyes, and finally spilled. The most beautiful, intimate, magical moment of his life and somehow Vince had managed to turn it into something cheap and ugly. He let loose with the first of many wracking sobs then, curling up against the file cabinet, crying alone just the way he was used to doing it.

//I can't go back to him. God forgive me for not being strong enough to do it for Jim, but I can't live that way anymore.// He worked at tearing apart the tape he had in his hands, unable to stifle his tears while he did it.

//I can't live with Vince. I can't refuse him or he'll ruin Jim, humiliate him. Dear God, there's nowhere left to go.// He tried to take a breath, pull his tears under some slight control.

//There's still one way out. You realized it while you were with Vince. And it's still the only way to get away from him. To leave Jim with some kind of life. And it would rob Vince of all his power. And maybe God can forgive someone who has no other choices.//

Strangely calm, Blair rose from his hunch on the floor, and dropped the tattered remains of the tape into the wastebasket.

Blair felt bad to give Jim the silent treatment through dinner, but he didn't dare open his mouth to speak of anything serious, or even to return an "I love you". The thought of leaving Jim was so overwhelmingly painful he couldn't think about it or anything else. He wanted to cry for the pain Jim would feel at first. The loneliness he was inflicting on this man who had been so hesitant to entrust his heart to anyone again ate at his soul.

//God, Jim, I love you so much. I'll always be with you. Please know that no matter how many years pass or how long I've been gone, I'll always be with you. You were my dream come true, if only for a few beautiful weeks. I've had all the love and the happiness I could ever wish for in just that one time we really made love. I'll carry that memory with me, in my heart, as I journey to the other side, and whatever waits there. I hope I can wait for you. I hope there really is a hereafter, or reincarnation-or something. Maybe you'll meet a nice woman and get married and have children and maybe you'll have one incorrigible, curly-headed brat you just can't figure out, who'll end up being your favorite...//

"Blair? What is it?" Jim's words made Blair realize that there were tears in his eyes and an immovable lump in his throat. "Talk to me, sweetheart." Jim reached across the table in the crowded Italian restaurant and took his hand. Right there in front of God and everybody.

"I'm--I'm just tired, I guess."

"Do you feel all right?"

"Yeah. I'm just ready to go home I think."

"You look like you're about due to cry, Chief. Why don't you tell me the truth?"

"I'm just worried about the trial." Blair was calm enough with his lie that even a sentinel would believe it. He'd made the best decision for Jim, and even if it ripped both their hearts out initially, it would be for the best in the long run.

"Let's head home then. My pasta's cold anyway." Jim smiled easily and flagged down the waiter for the bill.

"Jim?"

"What, Chief?" Jim was engrossed in a ball game on TV that was bound to go into overtime.

"Would you mind if I slept in my old room tonight? I'm really sleepy, and you'll probably be a while with the game."

"I can come up now if you want." Jim looked over the back of the couch to see Blair standing in his boxers and a tank shirt by the doorway of his old room.

"You said yourself it was a great game. Um, I just kind of need a little time alone."

"Sure, baby. Whatever you want. If you change your mind, come up and join me, huh?"

"Yeah. Okay." Their eyes locked for a moment. "I love you, Jim. With all my heart."

"I love you too. Do I get a kiss goodnight, at least?"

"Sure," Blair responded softly, forcing a smile. //A kiss goodbye.//

"You smell so good," Jim growled as he pulled the smaller body into his lap and nosed the soft curls. "Sure you don't want to reconsider about tonight?"

"I'm sure." //I'm sure I'm doing the right thing. The only path I have left, and I have to travel it alone.// He lowered his lips to meet Jim's, and they shared a prolonged, but strangely gentle, kiss. "You've made me so happy, Jim. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. Always remember that, huh?"

"Sounds like I'm getting a 'Dear Jim' letter, here."

"Not at all," Blair replied, smiling sadly. "I just worry sometimes that you don't realize how much I love you. That you're my whole world."

"I know that, sweetheart. I feel the same way about you. I just haven't found the right words for it." He cuddled Blair close.

"Good night, lover. I love you always." Blair planted a kiss on Jim's forehead this time, and extricated himself from the warmth of the big arms that had held him.

"Sleep well, baby. If you need me, just whisper my name. I'll hear you."

"I know. 'night, Jim." Blair turned and made his way toward the bedroom, and with a deep breath, pulled the french doors shut for the last time. The pills were on the nightstand. He would listen for Jim to go upstairs, and when he felt his sentinel was sleeping, he'd take the pills...and go to sleep.

Jim tossed and turned in the big bed alone. Not only did he hate sleeping without the warm, soft, fragrant bundle of Blair in his arms, but there was something not right about the familiar heartbeat downstairs. When he tuned into it fully, it seemed slower--no--downright sluggish.

Looking at the digital clock readout of 2:35 a.m., Jim got out of bed and made his way stealthily downstairs to check on Blair. Even if he did happen to wake his lover, he felt confident Blair would be forgiving-maybe even welcoming-of his intrusion.

He carefully opened the doors to the bedroom and looked in at Blair. He only wasted a split second assessing the sluggish heart rate, the unnatural depth of Blair's sleep before he grabbed his lover by the shoulders and shook him ruthlessly.

"Jim, don't... " was the breathless response as eyes fluttered marginally and then closed again.

"Blair-what the hell--?!" Jim turned to see the empty pill bottle tumble to the floor. "Oh shit." He scooped Blair out of bed and hauled him into the bathroom, ruthlessly jamming a finger down his throat. "Come on, vomit! Give it up, Chief!" Finally there was a strangled gag, and Jim held his partner over the toilet while he emptied the contents of his stomach into the head.

"J-im," he gasped, falling against Jim when the vomiting was over. "You should've let me go," he moaned in a raspy voice.

"Come on. We're going to the hospital."

"No."

"That wasn't a question." He gathered up his partner and carried him to the couch, where he left him momentarily to grab a t-shirt and shorts. He snatched a blanket off the bed upstairs and when he returned to Blair's curled form, wrapped him in it and carried him out to the truck.

"Please, Jim...let me go," he whimpered as he was shoved into the passenger seat and strapped in.

"Hang on, baby. You're going to be okay."

"Sorry," he murmured. Jim reached over and stroked the soft curls gently.

"I love you, sweetheart. Hang in there. Everything'll be okay."

Jim waited an unbearable length of time while the medical team finished the job of pumping Blair's stomach and got him settled in a room. He used his badge to claim that he was the cop assigned to Blair, who was a protected witness in an upcoming trial. That way, he was given full access to Blair's room, 24 hours a day.

When he next saw his lover, Blair looked much the same as he had when he was comatose on Golden. Oxygen ran through a clear, thin tube in Blair's nose, and a heart monitor kept time with the precious heartbeat that was sounding closer to normal, if a little rapid.

Two exhausted blue eyes drifted open to greet him.

"Hey there, beautiful," Jim smiled as he pulled up a chair near the bed and stroked Blair's hair back from his forehead.

"I really messed up, didn't I?" Blair asked weakly.

"You're going to be okay. That's the most important thing. But I do want to know why. When you can tell me." He took Blair's hand and kissed it, then held it against his face. "Dear God, Blair, I'd die without you. You know that."

"You'd be better off."

"Don't you ever dare say that again, Sandburg. I mean it."

"I'm too tired tonight. I can't explain."

"You don't have to. I'll be right here. Whatever it is, Blair, let me help you. Let me in. I love you. Don't shut me out."

"Tomorrow," Blair whispered, his eyes drifting shut again.

"Tomorrow and a whole lifetime of tomorrows. Promise me that, sweetheart. Promise me a lot of tomorrows." Jim raised up enough to place a gentle kiss on Blair's lips.

"I promise," he murmured back before drifting off to sleep.

The staff psychiatrist at the hospital made his obligatory visits with Blair. Suicide attempts were not just sent out the door with an admonition not to try it again. The fact that Blair fluidly talked his way through a couple of counseling sessions, convincing the doctor that the suicide attempt had been an ill-conceived reaction to all the stress of his ordeal and the trial, and that he had purposely done it in such a way that he would be found in time, unnerved Jim but didn't surprise him. The day Sandburg couldn't talk his way out of something would be the day he truly was, in fact, dead.

Jim finally confronted Blair with his own questions, and found his partner resigned to the interrogation.

"I can't testify, Jim. That's final."

"Whoa, hold on there, Chief. You can't be serious?"

"I am. I'm not going to testify. And when I reached that decision, I didn't see any way that you'd still be able to go on loving me knowing I backed out on the case."

"I told you before-"

"I know what you said, but I-"

"You're lying, sweetheart." Jim moved out of his chair and sat on the side of the hospital bed "Try the truth."

"Not here. Look, they're going to release me this afternoon. When we get home, okay?"

"Okay. But then no more stalling."

"No more stalling."

After dealing with the paperwork, Jim drove home in virtual silence as his partner brooded in the passenger seat.

Jim's patience was frayed to a mere thread by the time Blair had settled on the couch with a cup of tea Jim made for him. His stomach was still understandably upset, and the tea would soothe it a bit.

"I want some answers, Chief." Jim sat at the opposite end of the couch.

"I was trying to do what was best for you--"

"Don't hand me that!" Jim was on his feet, pacing angrily. "How in the hell could your death be best for me? Did you ever stop to think what I was going to feel like--finding you dead in your bed this morning? Of all the goddamned stupid things to do!"

"Are you finished?" Blair's voice was flat and emotionless. It's firmness caught Jim by surprise. "You know, Vince used to yell at me all the time. It was a good way to shut me up because he knew I'd be afraid of what was coming. I didn't appreciate it from him and I don't appreciate it from you. As a matter of fact, I've just about fucking had it with getting pushed around and chewed out and controlled!" Blair's voice rose considerably. "I damn near offed myself because Vince backed me into a corner, and I'll be damned if I cower in one now because you're pissed off!" he shouted back at Jim, who stared at him, still shocked. "I think you're forgetting who was the one here with the tubes up his nose. It sure as hell wasn't you. I was trying to let you off the hook, and if you'd had any fucking brains at all, you'd have let me die last night."

"I don't even believe this conversation."

"Probably not, because I'm not shaking and crying in the corner."

"You're comparing me to Watson now?"

"In just this one way--when you get your 'stern voice' with me, I'm supposed to back down and do as I'm told."

"Blair, I know this isn't about me. When you're really pissed off and frustrated with Watson, you take it out on me. That's fine, I can take it. But I do deserve an explanation of why you tried to kill yourself. Because, you see, if you were anyone else but who you are, you'd be dead right now. I'd kill any bastard who killed you or gave it a good shot. Now I want to know the real story--not a smokescreen of comparing me to Watson so I'll back down."

"I wasn't doing that." Blair slumped further in the cushions.

"Yes, Blair, you were." Jim sat on the couch again. "I dropped you off at Rainier yesterday, and you were fine. I pick you up and you're weepy and depressed and tense and all of a sudden you want to sleep in your old room. Then you gobble up enough tranquilizers to put half of Cascade under for a week. Now something happened in that three hours. I want to know what it was."

"Vince came to the office," Blair stated quietly.

"That bastard. Why didn't you say something?"

"He wants me to not testify...and to-to move back in with him."

"He's crazier than I thought. What did he do? Did he hurt you?" Jim scooted over close to where Blair sat. "He didn't touch you, did he?" By Jim's gentle tone of voice, Blair knew what kind of touch he meant.

"No. Jim, he-he-he taped us," Blair finally blurted, the threat of tears in his voice.

"Taped us?"

"On your birthday," Blair managed, breaking down on the last word. Jim gathered his lover in his arms and stroked his back, rocking slightly.

"Shhh. Everything'll be okay, sweetheart. Just try to calm down a little and tell me what happened."

"It was all there...every move...he taped us...when we made love."

"There has to be a proposed deal here somewhere." Jim tightened his hold, keeping Blair sheltered in a firm embrace. "You don't testify and he doesn't rent a screen at the Cascade Quad Cinema, right?"

"He said he'd...give a copy...to everybody...important at the PD, and the mayor's office."

"I still don't understand why you tried to take your own life over this, baby. I mean, it's horrible and it's upsetting, but even so-"

"Don't you get it? You're never going to have any kind of life as long as you have me in it. He's always going to be there."

"You had to know I wouldn't let you go back to him."

"I didn't know where to turn. I thought if I was out of the picture altogether, he wouldn't have any reason to harass you. And I'm so damned tired, Jim. I've been under his thumb for so long I just want it over with." Blair burrowed deeper into the embrace, as if he wanted to crawl into Jim's skin.

"It will be soon."

"I was really scared, Jim. The things he said to me...just like before."

"Look at me." Jim took a hold of Blair's face in both hands and held it only inches from his own. "I love you. Any life I could have without you in it, I don't want. You are my life-got it?"

"Got it," Blair responded, smiling a little.

"Next time something insurmountable comes up, you're going to let me in on it, right?"

"Right."

"If you ever pull a stunt like this again, Chief, you're in deep trouble, hear me?"

"I hear you."

"Hear something else. I may get mad and yell and throw things and even say some things that hurt you, but I will never hit you. You don't have to be afraid of me or my temper. Understood?"

"Understood."

"How did he make the tape?"

"He said he got the key from the girl who works for Mrs. Donoghue downstairs. That's my fault too. He made me go in there with him one morning to get bagels and she asked me if I was there to get my key. I said no, that I didn't live upstairs anymore, but he had already seen her going to the register to get it out of the drawer."

"That's not your fault. It just happened." Jim took a deep breath. "Now, the first order of business is getting those tapes back from Watson. Any thoughts on where he might stash them?"

"He has a rented storage place." Blair looked down at his lap as they parted. "He keeps some stuff there."

"Blair--sweetheart, what's wrong?"

"This isn't the first time he's made tapes."

"He taped you, didn't he?" Jim reached out and laid a gentle hand on the side of Blair's head.

"Only a few times. I never saw the tapes, and I know he stashed them somewhere, because I searched every inch of the apartment after he left for work one day. I wanted to get rid of those damn tapes. I didn't care if he beat the hell out of me for it. I didn't want anybody to see those."

"How did you find out about the storage space?"

"I found the key. It was taped under a shelf in the bedroom closet."

"Did you go there?"

"No," Blair responded, shaking his head, smiling a little. "I got caught."

"With the key?"

"Yeah. I lied real smoothly. I said I was cleaning--he doesn't know me well enough to know how unlikely that is," he said, smiling a little at Jim's chuckle. "I said I had this idea to take everything out of the closet and vacuum it and wash the shelves. I had most of his stuff pulled out in the middle of the room, so I had to say something. Oddly enough, he bought it. He was pissed off at me for finding the key, and he grabbed me by the arm and told me if I ever rooted through his stuff again when he wasn't home he'd beat the shit out of me. Then he went to the kitchen, grabbed a beer and sat in the living room going over some paperwork for the health education class he taught. I was shaking so hard in that bedroom I almost wet my pants. I thought he was gonna kill me."

"What did he do with the key?"

"He took it with him, and later that night, I saw him tape it under the lid of the toilet tank. He thought I was sleeping, but I risked it to get up and look out the bedroom door. I knew he was about due to stash the key somewhere else, and I wanted to know where."

"Which storage company?"

"Whiting's, over on Hanover Street."

"Okay," Jim began looking at his watch. "How late is he at the U?"

"Today's Wednesday?" Blair thought a moment. "He's teaching a summer session of the health ed. class, and that doesn't get out until four. Then he works with the wrestling team for a couple hours. Since I'm not there to cook, my guess would be he'd eat out."

"It's two-thirty now. Look, I'm going to go get that key. Do you still have a key to Watson's place?"

"Yeah, but, Jim--"

"No buts. Give me the key." Jim waited as Blair hesitated a moment, then went back to his old room and soon returned with a house key.

"Jim, please don't--"

"Give me the key, Blair." Jim held out his hand, and Blair reluctantly placed the key there. "I'm going to go get the storage key, and then I'm going to get back any of the videos that son of a bitch ever made--of you or us. For phase two of this operation, I'm going to need your help."

"This is illegal, man. You could get arrested."

"Look, I've had about all I can take of playing this by the book. I've watched you turned on the spit and humiliated by all this for the last time. Now, I'm going to get Watson's little video collection and destroy it. Then, I'm going to do the same thing with Watson."

"What are you planning?"

"I want the bastard to do something to ruin his defense, and get his ass tossed back in jail until the trial. Once he finds his tapes are gone, he's going to blame you, and come looking for you."

"So far, I'm not liking this plan, Jim."

"You won't be in any real danger, sweetheart. We're going to lure him over here. You know he won't be able to resist coming here to confront you about the tapes. We just have to be sure he sees me leave--and is convinced I won't be back for a while. As soon as he gets here, I'll be right behind him."

"I don't know about this, Jim."

"I do. This is beyond the law now. When he made that tape--hell, when he did any of the sick things he did--he stepped over the line into a territory that isn't covered by the legal system. He tampered with you. That's one thing I won't tolerate." Jim headed for the door, then pulled out his gun and handed it to Blair, who'd followed him. "If he shows up before I get back, don't hesitate to use this. And if you have to shoot the fucker, page me. Don't call the PD. I don't want you arrested by some over-eager rookie."

"Jim, I don't want to--"

"Blair, just do it." Jim gave Blair's lips a quick kiss and then was out the door and on his way.

Jim parked the truck one street over from Vine Court. Dressed in jeans, a dark jacket and a baseball cap, he didn't look much different from how Vince Watson himself would look to his neighbors. They were the same height, of similar build, and like Vince, Jim had a key to let himself in the house without any suspicious behavior.

He unlocked the side door off the driveway and went inside the apartment. A quick sensory sweep of the place told him that no one was home, just as Blair had predicted. He didn't lose any time going to the toilet tank and locating the key taped under its lid.

He paused in his stride down the hall to look in at the bedroom. The bed was neatly made, and there were a few discarded sweat clothes on the floor near an overstuffed chair. Jim swallowed when he thought of some of the things Blair had been subjected to in this room. His sentinel sight picked up scratches on the brass headboard, most likely from the handcuffs. Turning away from the room quickly, he hurried down the hall and back to the side door. Checking to be sure no one was outside who might stop him or speak to him, thinking he was Watson, Jim locked the door behind him with his leather-gloved hand, then thrust his hands into his pockets. A man wearing leather gloves in August could certainly be considered suspicious.

Jim was relieved that the storage facility Watson used was self serve, and all he had to do was unlock the gate to enter. Getting past a guard would have been another obstacle, as the man would have then seen Jim's face up close. As it was, he was slipping in again without the truck, which was left parked in a grocery store lot two blocks away.

Watson had a storage room the size of a single car garage. Most of the items were the usual stuff of storage facilities--i.e., things people should really throw out but generally didn't. There were cartons of books and household accessories, suggesting Watson must have lived in a larger apartment or possibly a house prior to moving into the Vine Court address. There was an old bike with a flat tire, some old exercise equipment, and a couple of surfboards, which Jim noted with marginal interest. He was shocked to find a TV-VCR with a 13-inch screen hidden under a tarp on one of shelves. It was plugged in to an outlet in the wall.

He dug feverishly through every carton, until finally, buried under some old clothes, he found thirteen video tapes in black plastic cases.

A part of him wanted to just destroy the tapes without ever viewing them. And he knew that was the right thing to do, out of respect for Blair's privacy. At the same time, he wanted to be sure he had the right tapes. He opened the first case, turned on the TV-VCR and loaded the tape. This was the footage of the two of them together, and despite his inclination to watch it out of simple curiosity as to what they looked like together from a third person perspective, he turned it off. There was something about viewing it that seemed to mock the sacredness of the moment.

He checked the next nine tapes and found the same thing. Ten copies of the blackmail tape had been stashed here for future use. That left three. They could be three more copies of the same tape...or they could be the tapes of Blair that Watson had made. Jim took a deep breath and loaded the first of these final tapes. His stomach turned and something in his heart twisted when he saw the first images on the screen.

He knew he shouldn't be surprised by watching Watson torturing Blair, given all he'd heard in Beverly Sanchez's office, but seeing it in living color was almost more than he could endure. There was no way to help the naked, too-thin Blair who was handcuffed to the bed, face down, his back, buttocks and thighs striped by the whip Watson was still wielding, criss-crossing the marks.

Jim made the mistake of turning up the volume. Though the sound wasn't wonderful, his ears could easily pick up Blair's crying and little pleas for mercy, the snap of the whip marring the soft flesh, and Watson's own vocalizations, which ranged from aroused groans to various taunts directed at his captive. Stripped down to briefs, the big man was sporting a healthy erection. Jim turned off the tape. He knew he couldn't watch the rest of it, which would undoubtedly be one of Watson's violent violations of precious body that Jim loved more than any other in the world.

The next two tapes were no more pleasant, though they were each slightly different. All of them were made when Watson was using one of his new "toys". Jim could endure no more than a few seconds of each to determine that they were all, in fact, tapes of Blair that should be destroyed.

He loaded the tapes back in the box, turned off the TV-VCR, re-covered it with the tarp and then hurried out of the storage unit. He carried the carton as non-chalantly as possible as he strolled down the sidewalk along the busy street, on his way back to the grocery store lot where he'd left his truck. As he loaded the tapes in the back, all he wanted to do was drive straight home and gather Blair in his arms and make love to him the right way... to stroke that healed, unmarred skin and leave trails of kisses over all the places Watson had left welts and bruises. He finally won the battle he was fighting with the threat of tears, and dialed the loft number from his cell phone.

"Jim?" Blair blurted into the phone, pouncing on it after the first ring.

"It's me, sweetheart. I've got the groceries, and I'll be home as soon as I drop off the recycling." Jim figured his bright partner would catch the double meaning, and understand that he didn't want to discuss the situation in the correct terms over the phone.

"Get home soon, okay, lover? I miss you." There was a plaintive quality to Blair's voice that threatened Jim's tenuous hold on his emotions.

"Miss you too, baby. When I get home, I'll show you how much, huh?"

"I'll be waiting. I love you."

"Love you too. See ya soon." Jim turned off the phone and headed for a remote area on the wrong side of the tracks. He had a little trash can bonfire planned.

Jim had barely walked through the door of the loft when he had a warm, clinging armload. He kicked the door shut as he held the smaller body tightly against his.

"The tapes are toast, baby. All of them."

"You saw them?"

"I had to check out the tapes I found to make sure I was destroying the right stuff. I didn't watch any more than I had to."

"You saw the ones he made of me?" Blair kept his face buried against Jim's shoulder.

"Only a few seconds of each," he lied. He'd watched more than that of the first one, drawn to the sheer horror of what he was seeing. "Let it go, Chief. It doesn't matter anymore. They're destroyed."

"How can you even stand to touch me after what you saw?"

"I saw you in pain, being violated. Watson's the one who has plenty to be ashamed of. Not you."

"Now what?" Blair pulled back and looked up at him.

"Now, I want to take you upstairs and make love to you. Because I want to show you how much I love every inch of you. I want to make you feel so good you'll forget you were ever in pain."

Blair said nothing, just nodded a wordless consent. Jim started toward the stairs and held out his hand. Blair took it and followed Jim, smiling. Sweeping Blair up and carrying him was taking away his choice. Jim recognized that and simply led him upstairs, leaving him totally able to stop or turn back if he chose.

As soon as they reached the head of the stairs, Jim lowered his mouth to Blair's, his tongue gently seeking an invitation into the wet warmth that waited there. Blair opened to him easily, and the kiss deepened as Blair's arms slipped around his back, hands grasping at the fabric of his shirt. Jim slid his hand into the silky curls and used the other arm to pull Blair tightly against him.

They tumbled onto the bed together, lips parting and sharing a little chuckle at their somewhat klutzy and unplanned fall on the mattress.

"Let me love you, sweetheart," Jim whispered, lightly kissing each of Blair's eyelids, the tip of his nose, his chin, and finally, his lips.

"Yes," Blair murmured back in response. Jim could feel a laxness in his lover's muscles. It was a level of relaxation and comfort with their loving he hadn't felt from Blair before. His partner was still haunted by the demons of Watson's abuse, but they were losing a little of their hold on him now.

Jim slowly unbuttoned the short-sleeved shirt Blair wore, kissing each little bit of revealed flesh. He finally parted the sides of the fabric and paid homage to the expanse of chest that was exposed. He kissed his way slowly through the soft hair, licking and nipping a little at the small nubs he found hiding there. Pushing the shirt off Blair's shoulders as the other raised a bit to aid him in removing it, Jim buried his face in his favorite spot-where Blair's neck flowed into his shoulder, and his scent and the scent of his hair and shampoo blended together.

He worked his way from one side of Blair's throat to the other, over his shoulders, under his arms, then back along the little path of hair to his navel. The only sound in the loft was the soft little suckling noises Jim was making or the occasional groan of pleasure from his lover.

Straightening up a moment, Jim discarded his own shirt and then descended on Blair again, claiming his mouth in a passionate kiss, relishing the warmth and sensations of Blair's chest against his, feeling the beloved heart thudding in time with his own.

He slid back down to kiss and nip at Blair's stomach, drawing occasional giggles along with groans of pleasure. Jim smiled when he hit something that was a "tickle zone" rather than an erogenous zone, and he heard that delightful little giggle out of Blair. After all the pain he'd suffered, Blair didn't laugh as easily as he used to, and the sound was music to Jim's ears.

"Jim, you're killin' me here, man," Blair finally panted, wriggling to indicate the tautness of his pants.

"Hang on, baby." Jim carefully unzipped Blair's pants and with a cooperative movement from an anxious Blair, slid the pants and boxers off in one smooth glide. "I love your smell, sweetheart." Jim illustrated his comment by burying his nose in the wiry hair of Blair's groin, kissing his way to the crease where thigh joined body, urging Blair's legs apart to give him better access to reach all these musky, secret places with lips and tongue.

"J-im... oh, man, so good," Blair murmured, hips bucking slightly as the very obvious erection waited impatiently for attention. The little gasps and whimpers he was emitting spurred Jim to continue this intimate exploration of his lover's body.

He encouraged Blair's legs upward, resting the strong thighs on his shoulders as he dipped below the straining arousal to slowly and maddeningly suck at the ovals there. He smiled as he withdrew, to kiss and suck at the tender skin of his lover's perineum.

"Jim...oh, man...I'm gonna come..." Blair managed to gasp.

"I'm not done yet, baby. Pull your knees up for me, sweetheart." Blair complied, obviously expecting Jim to enter him. He moaned luxuriously at the sensation that came in place of the anticipated one. Jim's tongue wetly lapped the little pucker, then began darting in and out in a maddening rhythm. Occasionally, the demon tongue strayed to one side or the other, nipping and kissing at the tender underside of Blair's cheeks.

When Blair was moaning steadily, with both hands gripping the sheets in white knuckled clutches, Jim ceased his rimming and after drawing his tongue in one long sweep up the underside of Blair's shaft, took the now-painful erection into his mouth and suckled it. Within moments, Blair cried out his name and spurted his completion into his lover's waiting throat. Jim finally let the limp organ slip from his mouth, planting a kiss on it and sliding up the bed to pull Blair into his arms.

After sharing a prolonged kiss, Jim felt a hand working busily at unfastening the jeans that were becoming devices of torture rather than a simple piece of clothing. Blair roused from his aftermath to grasp the jeans and boxers with both hands and slide them down the long legs and toss them on the floor with the flourish of an experienced stripper. Jim had to chuckle a bit.

The chuckle melted into a groan of pleasure as Blair's hot mouth closed over the engorged shaft. His motions were a little tentative at first, but when he had the larger man writhing and panting his name, he became more aggressive, working the base with a skillful hand and concentrating the suction and motion of his tongue closer to the head.

"Blair...baby...oh, God..." Jim panted, feeling the storm building, and finally releasing it into the waiting mouth that diligently swallowed every drop, kissing and licking the relaxed organ before scooting back up into Jim's arms.

The two men lay there a few minutes, tangled together, sated and content in each other's arms.

As Blair moved and purred a bit against him, Jim wondered how anyone could have treated him the way Watson had. How could anyone want to make him scream out in pain, or want to watch the welts rise on the soft skin Jim was now stroking so lovingly?

"You're awfully quiet," Blair finally commented. "That was...mind-blowing."

"Good choice of words, baby. I think I've found my favorite flavor." Jim kissed a nearby temple.

"Nobody's ever...I mean, when you put your tongue there...oh, man," Blair concluded, shaking his head a little.

"Liked that, did you?" Jim asked with a smile in his voice.

"It made me feel...I don't know. I've felt so damned...used since I was with Vince. Sort of dirty about myself. I guess I was thinking--not that I was thinking too much--but anyhow, I was thinking that if you could do that for me, maybe I wasn't as gross as I feel sometimes."

"There's nothing gross about you, baby. I love every part of you."

"I love you." Blair tightened his hold, and Jim mirrored the gesture.

"I love you too. And I'm pretty fond of that mouth of yours, too."

"I loved making you feel good." Blair started trailing little kisses along Jim's throat.

"Easy, sweetheart. We don't have time to get going again."

"What?"

"Remember the plan?"

"You didn't clue me in on phase two yet." Blair started kissing his way toward a nipple, but Jim stopped him with a gentle hand on each side of his head.

"That's what we have to do next."

"Damn."

"I hear that, baby. Come on. Let's go grab a shower and then we'll talk."

"Okay," Blair groaned, taking the hand Jim offered as he rose and plodding down the stairs, admiring the view ahead of him.

"We're going to have a fight." Jim leaned back in the cushions of the couch, with Blair nestled against his side. Despite his suggestion that they sit at the table, Blair insisted he would think better on the couch. //You're obfuscating again, sweetheart// Jim thought fondly.

"What do you mean?"

"A nasty one. Right out on the sidewalk. Because my guess is that Watson is going to start watching the place to see me leave."

"Jim, why don't I just go ahead and testify? We can still stop this thing before it goes any further."

"Because one thing you said was very true--at the most, he isn't going to get very long in lock-up. I want to lure him into doing something that's going to add onto that in a major way, and land his ass back in jail until the trial. You'll still have to testify if all goes according to plan, but it'll gain us a more worthwhile result. Plus, I want him behind bars until the trial so you can have a little peace of mind." Jim slid a hand into Blair's hair and began lightly massaging his scalp. The soft waves were still damp from the shower, and the smell of the herbal shampoo tickled Jim's nose. He'd had the pleasure of washing those beautiful locks just moments ago.

"So what do I have to do?"

"I'm going to leave the loft with a travel bag, and we're going to be fighting all the way downstairs. Then we're going to finish it on the sidewalk, and I'm going to get in the truck and take off."

"For real?"

"Just real enough for Watson to get all excited."

"Isn't this entrapment?" Blair asked, raising up a little.

"Doing your homework, eh, Chief?" Jim kissed his forehead. "Yeah, probably. But only if we admit to someone that the fight wasn't real. Furthermore, he's not going to refer to the tapes when he's caught. They were blackmail evidence, as well as a documentation of some of the sick things he did to you. It'll just look like he was after you to keep you from testifying."

"How am I gonna fight him? He'll kill me if he has the chance."

"Knowing Watson, he's going to want to have a little fun first."

"Jim, I don't like this. I can't face having him climb all over me even if it is for a good reason."

"He's going to try to do that, but he won't have time. I'm going to park the truck a few blocks away, and then come back. I'll focus on the loft, and listen for Watson. Plus, I'm leaving my back up revolver with you. And I don't want any arguments on that."

"I don't want to have to shoot anybody, Jim."

"You shouldn't have to. I shouldn't have to either. But we need to make Watson show his true colors, and having him come after the prosecution's key witness shortly before the trial is perfect."

"So what are we fighting about?"

"I don't know. I doubt he's within earshot, but I guess we can use the tapes. Maybe I can be pissed off that they exist, shouting something about ending things to save my job--I don't know. Just don't take anything I say seriously."

"The part about you saving your job probably isn't all false."

"That's what I'm talking about, sweetheart. Don't glom onto something I shout during a staged argument and think it has any real meaning."

"Jim, if our relationship goes public, and it will with the trial-"

"It'll save me the trouble of announcing it."

"You know what the guys at work'll do to you. There're already guys snubbing you because of what happened to me and the fact I'm back living with you again."

"Who?"

"When I went into the bullpen with you that day, there were plenty of surly faces looking back at us, man."

"Our friends are still our friends. The people who acted that way obviously weren't good friends. I'm not losing sleep over it. I'm not even sure staying here in the same old rut is good for us anymore."

"Meaning what?"

"A new start. A new life together. Leaving all the ugly memories behind. We could still do something similar to what we do now, only we'd work for ourselves. Maybe a PI business."

"I could leave Rainier."

"Is that what you want?"

"Maybe it's inside me, man. I just feel...unhappy there. I guess it's Vince. And everyone who looks at me, even if they're nice to me--they all look at me funny, like 'there's the guy Watson was beating up on'."

"We don't have to make any decisions now, sweetheart. The big thing to remember is that us being together is number one. After that, the other stuff just has to fit in around it."

"I wish we could stay here like this all night. I don't want to see him again, Jim. I sure as hell don't want to be alone with him." Blair nestled deeper into Jim's arms, fastening one hand to the lapel of his robe.

"You won't be--not really. I'll be tuned into what's going on here as soon as I can make it back on foot. And I'm not going to let him hurt you." Jim gave his partner a tight squeeze. "If I could see any other way to go after him, I would. The problem is, Chief, Beverly's right about a few things. We have some major strikes against us, even if they aren't fair. When he came after you at the University, he drew the battle lines. As long as he stayed the hell away from you and played by the rules, I was fine doing that too. When I think about what he almost caused...the point is, I didn't think it was possible for me to want his ass nailed to the wall moreso than I did before, but I do now."

"I'm scared. I don't want to see him, Jim. There has to be another way. I'm sorry to be such a baby about this, but if he...if he tried anything--"

"I'll kill him if he touches you."

"I don't want you to kill anybody, and I don't want him anywhere near me."

"Blair, in any other circumstances, I wouldn't push you this way. But we're out of choices, our backs are to the wall and we're running out of time. This son of a bitch is going to be a factor in your life unless we do something to neutralize him. Short of killing him in cold blood, this is the next best thing. Though the first option is more appealing."

"So what do I do after you leave?"

"Go back upstairs and wait. Be sure to keep the gun in easy reach. If you can keep him talking, do it. If he tries anything or touches you, shoot the bastard. If someone has to shoot him, better it be me, since I could honestly do it in the line of duty, and for me, it would most likely end with an IA investigation."

"Is that how you want this to end? You shooting him?"

"No. I want it to end that I show up, slap the cuffs on him, haul his ass downtown and throw him in a cell until the trial, where Beverly can take this new offense and use it to show him up for the menace he is and get him locked up for about twice as long as he probably would have been otherwise. Blair, as much as I love you, I'm not a vigilante, or he'd be dead by now."

"I never thought you were a vigilante, Jim. I just know how angry you get at Vince and--"

"I will be angry at that miserable piece of shit until I take my last breath--and I don't care if I'm 100 years old when that happens. I'll never forget what he did to you."

"We better get dressed, huh?"

"Yeah. It's getting late."

"You figure he'll come here for sure?"

"I'd bet a year's salary on it, sweetheart." Jim leaned forward and met Blair's lips, licking and kissing gently at first, then sinking into a deep, prolonged duel of tongues. He drew back, and kissed the end of Blair's nose. "It blows me away how much I love you," he rested his forehead against Blair's. The other man smiled in response.

"Ditto, lover."

"Okay. Let's get this show on the road."

"I knew I never should have told you!" Blair yelled, following Jim onto the sidewalk. It was mid-evening, and only a few people were moving around to the businesses that were still open. The two arguing men warranted a couple turns of the head from those people, but little else.

"I should have known getting back together with you would be a disaster! We're finished! You can get your stuff together and get your ass out of the loft!"

"I don't have anyplace to go!" Blair retorted, sounding a little too upset for Jim's tastes. He hoped his lover was secure in the falseness of anything he was flinging at him now.

"That's just too fucking bad. I'm going out, and I won't be back tonight. When I get home tomorrow, I want you gone. Got it?"

"I-I got it, Jim." Blair looked appropriately contrite, and Jim almost hesitated before getting in the truck and leaving the sad-faced man standing there on the sidewalk. Their acting had been convincing--maybe a little too good. Blair seemed genuinely wounded as he turned and slowly made his way into the building.

Blair set a pot of water on the stove to boil. Jim had been gone almost two hours, and still no sign of Watson. It was almost ten o'clock. Of course, that wasn't really late. //It just feels late// Blair reasoned. His stomach was churning now, having expelled its contents a few minutes earlier in an unexpected bout of nervous vomiting. Walking into the living room, he checked for the hundredth time that the revolver was still handy under the old sweatshirt he'd draped casually over the couch.

His hand encountered nothing but the cushion.

"Looking for this?" Watson asked as he smiled at Blair from the spot where he leaned casually against the stair railing. The revolver was dangling from his upraised hand.

"How did you get in here?" Blair asked, feeling his mouth go suddenly dry.

"If you don't want uninvited guests, it's always a good idea to lock the door. For a hot shot Einstein, you sure are stupid."

"What do you want from me?"

"You know why I'm here. Now give me the tapes back and you might still be able to walk when I get done with you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Like hell you don't!" Watson's taunting demeanor quickly gave way to hostility. "You stole those tapes, and I want them back...NOW."

"Like you have any right to those tapes in the first place," Blair shot back, praying that Jim would make good on his promise and show up soon.

"You better hand them over!" Vince advanced toward Blair, this time releasing the safety catch on the gun and pointing it at him.

"I don't have them! I-I destroyed them."

"You did what?!"

"Why in the hell would I want them?" Blair challenged.

"I don't believe you."

"I'm sorry, but that's the truth. Their history, man."

"Then I guess I'll have to get something else out of my visit here. I would have taken the tapes and left quietly, but since you can't give me that...well, I guess I'll have to take what you have got to give." He waved the weapon at Blair. "Take off your clothes and get on all fours on the floor."

"You want action? You can go fuck yourself, man. I'm not your slave anymore." Blair's tone was flat, firm and even.

"I'll tear you apart, you rotten little bitch!"

"Stay away from me!" Blair yelled back at him, backing up as Watson advanced, until in one panic-stricken moment, he felt himself tumble back onto the couch. That was all Watson needed to pounce on him and pin him there.

"We can do this the hard way if you want. I like it rough." Watson had dispensed with the gun somewhere, and was now using both powerful arms to restrain Blair's arms to the cushions of the couch, keeping a painful grip on his wrists. "I'm going to fuck you, so it can hurt a little or a lot. Your choice," Watson threatened through gritted teeth. "If you're waiting for Ellison, you can forget it. He's probably dead by now."

"What are you talking about? He left--"

"Yeah, sure he did. Did you think I'd be dumb enough to buy that? I followed him when he left here. He's in the alley with a knife in his guts."

"You better be lying."

"Or what? What're you gonna do?" He deftly switched his grip so one powerful hand restrained Blair's wrists and the other arm pressed down on his throat. "I'll tell you what you're gonna do. I'm going to let you up, and you're going to take off those clothes and do as you're told."

"I'll die first." Blair met Watson's eyes with complete confidence and conviction. "If you've killed Jim, I don't care about living anyway. So your threats are useless. Go ahead and kill me."

"I don't need your cooperation." As Vince shifted his grip to take the pressure off Blair's throat to use that hand to unbutton his jeans, Blair wrested one arm out of Watson's grip. With surprising strength he brought his elbow up into his assailant's face, sending him sprawling momentarily, blood oozing from his lip. Blair sprang from the couch and ran for the door.

Watson was on him momentarily, covering his mouth with one hand and dragging him down to the floor.

"They're not going to recognize what's left of you!" he yelled in Blair's ear as he pinned the smaller man with his full weight.

The teapot whistled loudly.

Watson's momentary distraction gave Blair the opening he needed to blindly thrust his Swiss Army knife backward in the general direction of Watson's face. He heard a wail of pain and found himself relieved of the oppressive weight. He didn't take time to see what he'd hit. Instead, he grappled with the door locks and had the door open before Vince recovered enough to grab the waist of Blair's jeans and pull him back onto the floor.

"Help me!!" Blair bellowed out the door just before it slammed. "Get off me!! Somebody help!"

Watson's fist slammed into his jaw, silencing him momentarily from the pain and disorientation of the blow. Blessedly, the phone began ringing insistently.

"Make it sound good," Watson rose up, grabbing Blair by the hair and pulling him up also. "If that's one of your neighbors, you and your roommate were just horsing around. Got it?" He yanked Blair's head back until the younger man croaked out an affirmative answer.

As soon as he picked up the phone, he blurted a quick message into it.

"Alley behind 852 Prospect--" He was cut off when Watson slammed a hand over the wall unit, breaking the connection. Blair hoped that at least whoever was on the other end might get Jim some help, if it wasn't too late.

"You're a dead man," he growled, slamming Blair against the wall. Before he could advance on him, the front door swung open and Ellison staggered in, knife protruding from his side, gun clutched in two bloody hands.

"No, you are. Get your hands up, now!!" His voice was raspy, but Watson was certainly hearing him loud and clear as he complied with the order. "Blair--get the gun. It's in the back...his belt," he gritted out. Blair followed the directive, backing away from Watson, revolver pointing at him.

"I thought you were dead," Watson said to Jim, who forced a satisfied little smile.

"Surprise. Blair, call for back-up, and for God's sake, get an ambulance, huh?" Jim sat against the back of the couch, but kept his aim at Watson unwavering. Blair made the calls as instructed, ordering back-up units and an ambulance. Then he turned back to Jim.

"We've gotta get pressure on that, man."

"Leave it. I don't want to move the blade." Jim was as white as a sheet, his face covered with a cold sweat.

Blair's nervous distraction over Jim's condition was all Watson was waiting for. He grabbed the younger man around the neck, startling Blair into dropping the gun. He moved toward Jim, effectively using Blair as a shield between himself and Jim's weapon.

"Okay, hot shot, you're gonna have to kill your little whore if you want to take me down." Watson smiled wickedly. "Do you have any idea how easy it would be to snap his rotten little neck? Drop the gun. Now."

Those were Watson's last words.

Blair heard the bullet buzz past his ear right before Watson's grip loosened and the large man tumbled to the floor behind him. A little unsteady on his feet from the shock of the whole situation, Blair made his way over to Jim, who draped his arm around his lover.

"We got him, sweetheart," he gasped, just as he heard the first sirens...and everything went black.

Blair had spent what seemed like eternity in the emergency waiting room. Jim was unconscious and bleeding heavily when he was rushed into surgery. Simon had arrived with the back-up units, and he, along with Ryf and Brown, had sat with Blair to wait the vigil. None of it got through to the distraught man who clutched Jim's watch tightly in his hand and prayed to whatever deity would listen. There had been something terribly unnerving about the nurse handing him the piece of jewelry to keep for his partner.

"Jim's strong, Blair. He'll make it," Simon stated confidently.

"This is all my fault," Blair murmured, fighting the tears that were burning his eyes. "I shouldn't have let him take me out of Watson's place that day. He'd still be okay now."

"That's ridiculous, Sandburg. Get a grip on yourself. Jim's going to be fine," he emphasized, as if it were an order.

"You saw all that blood! How can anybody bleed like that and...and be okay?"

"They can give him a transfusion if he needs it. Hey, we've seen guys torn up worse than that make it back just fine," Ryf added.

"But he bled out there for so long without help, and he had to come all the way up to the loft..." Blair worked the watch over in his hands again, stroking it like it was an amulet.

"You're here for Detective Ellison?" A tall man with dark hair and a neatly trimmed mustache, dressed in blue scrubs, entered the waiting area.

"How is he?" Blair was on his feet the moment the man made it through the door.

"I expect him to make a complete recovery--"

Blair was grateful he was near his chair as his legs gave out and he dropped back into it.

"Thank God." It was little more than a whisper.

"He'll be in recovery for a few hours, and I expect him to sleep through the night. We were very fortunate in that the knife missed his organs, so it was only blood loss and tissue damage. He'll have to take it easy for a while to heal, but I don't anticipate any complications."

"I want to see him," Blair blurted, springing back to his feet again.

"He'll sleep at least until morning. Why don't you all go home--"

"No. I have to see him. Please?"

"When he's moved to his room, you can step in for five minutes. No more than that. I don't want him disturbed."

"Thank you, doctor," Simon spoke up. "That's good news."

"He was very lucky."

"So am I," Blair whispered to himself, still clutching Jim's watch.

Blair sat in the grass, his back against the big oak tree. He shifted his gaze from the panorama of fall colors to the head resting in his lap. Jim had dozed off there a few minutes earlier, listening to his lover reading a letter from Mrs. Halstead, who still kept tabs on Blair. Now, Blair was content to just treasure the total peace and beauty of the moment.

After Jim's recovery from Watson's attack, he had requested a leave of absence from the PD, and Blair had requested an extension on his leave from Rainier. The university had only disturbed him once during late September, when the chairman of the Anthropology Department called to strongly suggest he apply for the Assistant Professor position that had been vacated by a faculty member who accepted an offer to teach at Yale, beginning in the Winter Semester. This would mean getting seriously down to business on his dissertation, since they would accept an A.B.D., but had certain expectations for the time line in which he would obtain his Ph.D.

His superiors' and colleagues' encouragement and support of him to go after the vacant permanent faculty position eased Blair over the hump of feeling that everyone was somehow looking at and treating him differently because of Watson. If they were treating him differently, it was in a very positive way. Two other complaints of sexual harassment and one complaint of sexual assault against Vince Watson surfaced after his death, and Rainier was relieved to be rid of him.

Jim had never really had an overpowering desire to leave the Cascade PD. He did, however, have an overpowering desire to please Blair. If moving to Ethiopia and living in a hut was what that would take, Jim would have packed his bags. Blair had seen so much pain and heartache and horror in the last year or so that Jim made up his mind to do his utmost to bring joy into his lover's life. Seeing Blair's face break into one of those genuine smiles that could light up the entire solar system was worth anything.

Now Blair was happy at the thought of staying Cascade, anticipating his first semester as a full-time faculty member. "A real person, not a student" had been Blair's exact phrase for it. Blair would, however, always be a student. A brain like his would never rest. Jim found himself envying the classes of young people who would learn from Blair. That boundless enthusiasm and love for learning and teaching were a real gift, and as he thought back over his college experience, Jim realized that very few of his professors had possessed it.

In the two months that had passed since Watson's death, Blair had become pretty much his old self again. He came and went without fear, laughed easily and regained the boundless energy that sometimes baffled Jim. There were still a few nightmares here and there, but they seemed to center more on the final showdown with Watson, and the possibility of Jim's death than the months of abuse Blair had suffered.

With Jim's encouragement, Blair had gone to a few sessions with a therapist to talk about his feelings about the abuse, but the younger man had discontinued going after about three meetings. He felt he'd talked all the same feelings out with Jim, and that he was progressing through the stages of recovery as well as he could on his own.

The months of October and November were being spent in New England, of all places, in a small house on Cape Cod owned by the affluent Ellison family. Stephen and his current girlfriend were the most frequent visitors to the spot, but Stephen was in Europe on business, leaving it safely empty for many weeks.

Sunny fall days were spent picnicking and relaxing on the expanse of tree-shaded property with its panorama of colors, while nights were spent making love by the fireplace or sometimes just curling up on the couch and talking until dawn, then crawling into the big four-poster bed upstairs and sleeping until noon. The view of the ocean crashing on rocks below the bluff on which the house sat was nothing short of remarkable. Blair sometimes liked to hook up his new laptop and work at the desk in the spare room upstairs, overlooking the ocean, while Jim either read or puttered around the cottage.

They planned to be back in Cascade for Thanksgiving, having been invited to a big spread at the Taggerts'.

"Penny for your thoughts," Blair said, smiling as Jim's eyes slowly opened from his nap.

"I haven't been this relaxed in? I guess I never have been," Jim said, laughing a little.

"This vacation was a great idea, man. We really needed to get away."

"How long was I asleep?"

"I don't know," Blair responded, smiling. "I kind of lost track of time. My mind wandered a lot. I just rested here watching you. Thinking about how much I love you."

"Me too, sweetheart." Jim caught the hand that had reached up to stroke his face and kissed it, then held it firmly.

"Jim?"

"What?"

"I got us something in town the other day. If you don't like it, you don't have to wear it. You can be honest."

"Why wouldn't I like it?" Jim sat up and turned to face Blair. They both smiled as an oversized red oak leaf found its way to stick in the front of Blair's hair. The sudden little swirl of wind was making brightly colored leaves dance and scurry all around them.

"I just...I wanted us to have something...symbolic." Blair pulled a small velvet box out of the pocket of his plaid flannel shirt jacket. He opened it to reveal two pewter pendants, each one bearing one half of a coin. "It's a Mitzpah coin. You wear one half, I wear the other half-"

"Because we're two halves of a whole and not complete unless both halves are together. Right?" Jim grinned at the smile of complete delight that lit up Blair's face, and in Jim's opinion, rivaled the brightness of the afternoon sun.

"Exactly."

"I love it. I think it's perfect for us, baby."

Blair took the first pendant out of the box and fastened it around his lover's neck. Jim followed his example and placed the other around Blair's neck. They sealed the moment with a kiss. Jim settled against the tree now, and pulled his partner into his arms. Blair snuggled against him happily and sighed luxuriously.

"Want to go into town for dinner? I'll spring for lobster," Jim offered.

"Sounds great." Blair straightened and straddled Jim's lap, draping his arms loosely around the larger man's neck. "Then we can come home and I'll treat you to dessert."

"Mere lobster pales in comparison, sweetheart." Jim hugged him tightly and they kissed again, relishing the thought of the rest of their vacation together, and the new version of their old life together that waited for them at home.

The End


End file.
